


A Scythe of My Own

by haligh24



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haligh24/pseuds/haligh24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-season 4 continuation fic: Bering & Wells. Warehouse action with Paracelsus. I really hate writing summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic, and I'm a bit nervous about it, so please bear with me through any bumps in the road. This story picks up right where “The Truth Hurts” ended. Also, I cannot for the life of me figure out a good title, so I’m open to suggestions. Any and all feedback is very appreciated. Thanks!

**Chapter one**

Steve, Mrs. Frederick, Artie and Pete stood gaping at the warehouse for a few seconds longer, all of their brains struggling to catch up with the events of the past few minutes.

“Come on,” Steve was the first to move, turning toward the SUV, “we need to figure out a plan _now_. We have to help Claud.” He and Artie moved slowly to support the weakened Mrs. Frederick.

“Wait. I-” Pete started and stopped.

“Pete. We don’t have time for this,” Artie called over his shoulder.

“No,” Pete responded firmly, striding up next to them, “I- It’s Myka. I have to check on her.” Steve and Artie glanced at him with confusion, reaching the car. Mrs. Frederick took a deep breath, leaning on the side of the SUV, and steadily replied, “I’ve taken care of it.”

“What do you mean? She’s ok? What do you know?” Pete rattled off eager questions in rapid succession.

“Peter, we will continue this conversation in the car.”

“No!” Pete snapped, his brown eyes a study in pain.

“Pete, what’s going on?” Steve asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, “We don’t really have time for this.”

“No-” Pete started, backing away.

“Get in the car _now_ , Agent Lattimer,” Mrs. Frederick said evenly, “and allow me to explain. I believe Ms. Donovan would appreciate our haste.” The mention of Claudia brought Pete’s guilt to the forefront of his mind. Clenching his jaw, he nodded curtly and walked to the other side of the car.

“Would anyone care to explain to me exactly _what_ is going on?” Artie asked gruffly, looking between Pete and Mrs. Frederick in the back seat as Steve turned the engine over and threw the SUV into reverse. The former caretaker caught Pete’s eye before responding.

“Agent Bering is at the hospital, Arthur, and Agent Lattimer is worried.”

“The _hospital_?” Artie spat, “That was her, her, _thing_? Pete, you knew about this?”

“Arthur,” Mrs. Frederick said sternly as the SUV flew down the dirt road, “Peter is not the issue here.”

“Well, what _is_ the issue?” Artie’s voice was raised with worry.

“Cancer,” Pete whispered, his head down, “Mykes has cancer.” Mrs. Frederick softened, while Artie looked as though he’d been struck.

“Cancer,” Artie repeated breathlessly. Steve shook his head from the driver’s seat and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“Myka has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer,” Irene explained somberly, “She is presently in surgery at the hospital.”

“Myka,” Artie breathed, looking lost, “why didn’t she tell me?”

“She only just told me,” Pete told him dejectedly, “I think- Artie, she’s really scared.” Artie took a breath to steady himself and turned to Irene.

“And you knew?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Frederick paused and pursed her lips. “And while I’m sure Agent Bering appreciates all of your concern, I think it is safe to say that she would put Claudia’s well being above her own at this juncture. I assure you all that Myka is being taken care of.” Pete shook his head.

“I should be there,” he half-choked.

“Pete,” Steve’s voice was steady from the front seat, even as the SUV hit a particularly deep pothole. Their eyes met in the rear view mirror, “I know you’re worried, but Claudia needs you right now. She needs all of us.” Pete took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Peter, Agent Bering will not be alone when she awakens,” Mrs. Frederick added quietly. Pete’s head whipped over to look at her.

“Who?” he asked, “My mom?”

“I have no doubt that your mother is also on her way,” Irene told him and then paused, looking down at her lap. “but I took the liberty of calling Ms. Wells.”

“You called H.G.?!” Pete snapped.

“Agent Lattimer, watch your tone,” Mrs. Frederick told him evenly.

“You had _no_ right,” Pete added, lowering his voice somewhat.

“Pete,” Artie interjected warily.

“No, Artie,” Pete pointed at the woman to his right, “she shouldn’t have done that. Myka wouldn’t have wanted that!” His face was turning red.

“Hey!” Steve yelled as he took a turn a little too quickly, “Listen- I’m worried about Myka too, Pete, but Claudia is trapped in the warehouse with a mad man. We can’t help Myka right now, but we can help Claud. Which is exactly what we’re going to do.” The car pulled to a stop outside the B&B. “Is everyone clear on that?”Steve turned to look at the rest of his team.

“Of course, Steve,” Artie told him solemnly as both Mrs. Frederick and Pete nodded, “we all want to help her.”

“Good,” he replied, pulling the keys from the ignition, “Let’s get to work.”

/

Paracelsus smirked as he took in the sight of the young woman standing opposite him. _Such a serious face_ , he mused, thinking she quite looked like a little girl playing dress up. This would be great fun.

“Well, well, well, what have we here,” he purred.

“Hiya, Parry,” Claudia grinned, “I figured you could use some company.”

“Did you now? How thoughtful.”

“That’s me,” she replied, holding her arms out, “always thinking of others.”

“You do realize I could kill you where you stand,” Paracelsus tilted his head in amusement.

“I really do,” Claudia nodded, “but I’m thinking there’s a reason you haven’t yet.”

“Is there?” Paracelsus feigned ignorance.

“Yup, I’m thinkin’ you can sense some serious power from me,” Claudia told him, “And that gets your oh so curious and scientific mind all hot and bothered. Am I close?” Paracelsus opened his mouth to respond, but Claudia didn’t give him the opportunity.

“I’m also thinkin’ you have no idea about the conversation I just had,” her previously carefree manner turned menacing, “so you _don’t_ know how much anger and hate I have swirling around in my head right now. Which means you definitely don’t know that I could be the best ally you have _ever_ had. But, Parry, I’m all about educating the uninformed.”

/

“Myka Bering’s room, please,” H.G. Wells’ normally melodic accented voice was tight as she rested her forearms on the nurses station. The nurse, who looked too young for Helena’s liking, gave a little nod and turned to her computer screen. After a moment, her eyes flicked back up to H.G.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she began, “that’s not supposed to be public information.” Helena sighed raggedly and dug her wallet out of her bag.

“Emily Lake,” she responded curtly, slapping her ID down on the counter, “I don’t believe I fall under the category of _public_.” Helena’s face was gently twisted with disdain. After consulting her computer once more, the nurse’s eyebrows shot up.

“My apologies, Ms. Lake-” she began.

“It’s quite alright,” Helena interrupted as she put her wallet away.

“Ms. Bering is in room 408. Do you want me to find you an escort?” the nurse stood and looked around the hall.

“That won’t be necessary,” H.G. gave a tight smile, “I should think I’m capable of finding it.” The young nurse nodded earnestly. She was a bit in awe of this elegant woman with the mysterious security clearing.

Helena turned to her left and began wheeling her suitcase down the hall behind her.

“Ms. Lake!” the nurse called out to her.

“Hmm?” she paused and looked over her shoulder.

“Um, sorry ma’am, but it’s actually that way,” the young woman pointed in the opposite direction. Helena sighed.

“Right,” she gave a tired smile and turned around, “of course.”

“The elevator is just around the corner to the left,” the nurse directed her timidly. H.G. paused.

“Thank you,” she said without looking up. “Sincerely, I do mean that. I must apologize for my rude behavior, nurse...?”

 

“Susie,” the woman supplied, “everyone just calls me Nurse Susie.”

“Have a good evening, Susie,” Helena briefly met her eyes and then continued on down the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

The atmosphere of the B&B was fraught with tension. In Claudia's obvious absence, Artie was manning her laptop. It only took him a few minutes of browsing to realize that the young woman had gone against his very clear orders and connected her personal laptop to the Warehouse mainframe.

He begrudingly admitted that her insubordination was proving to be extremely useful, but he would have to give her a stern talking to when she got back. The thought froze his actions. There was a real chance that she would not make it back. He could not bring himself to continue down that train of thought.

Claudia meant more to him than he liked to admit. He had never really wanted children; he had always been content to simply care for the Warehouse. Somehow, however, the brilliant and difficult young woman ha wormed her way deep within his heart. They would not fail to protect her, Artie would make sure of that.

Pete and Steve paced around the den, bouncing ideas off one another. Pete absently munched on a cookie, while Steve's hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly. They were both big brothers adrift, feeling helpless. Abigail carried a mug past them over to the couch, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Your tea, Mrs. Frederick," she placed the cup on the end table and unclipped the cordless phone from pants, "and here's the phone."

"Thank you, Ms. Chow," Irene replied taking the phone, "Though if I do recall, I asked you to disappear." There was a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Are you sure, ma'am?" Abigail lifted an eyebrow, "You've been through a lot of trauma today, I think you might be mistaken." She turned on her heel and walked back toward the kitchen. Mrs. Frederick bit back a smile and began to dial.

/

Helena jolted when her phone rang, quickly pulling her hand away from its place at Myka's forehead and sliding it into her pocket to silence the phone. The sleeping woman stirred as H.G. checked the screen and stood up. _Damnit._ She shuffled into the doorway and answered the call, "Hello?"

"Ms. Wells," Mrs. Frederick's usually honey-smooth voice was strained, "is Agent Bering awake?" At that, Helena pursed her lips.

"No, but she may very well be now thanks to your phone call," came Helena's terse response. When Mrs. Frederick didn't immediately respond, H.G. almost apologized- two apologies in one day? It would've been a record.

"Of course," Irene finally said, "I wasn't thinking. Please call me as soon as you know anything."

"Hey, is that Myka? How is she?" Helena could hear Pete's voice in the background as it got closer.

"I will," H.G. told her evenly, "and please let Peter know I am looking after her."

"Thank you, Helena," and with that the call ended. Helena took a shaky breath and spun back around into the room. Wide green eyes were looking at her with disbelief.

"Myka," she breathed out, clutching her phone to her chest, "you're awake." Though she desperately wanted to, Helena couldn't step forward. "I- I should get a nurse," she said without moving.

"Helena?" Myka's voice was raspy. "Is this-" she shook her head gently and tried to clear her throat, "are you really here?" With that, H.G. surged forward and grabbed a hideously pink plastic cup on the tray next to the bed. She sat back in her chair and positioned the straw to Myka's lips. Myka sipped slowly, her eyes never once leaving Helena's face. H.G. tried to ignore the stare and concentrated on her task, pulling the cup away after a few moments. She placed the cup back on the tray and reached out to stroke Myka's cheek.

"Yes," she whispered, "I'm really here." Finally, Myka closed her eyes.

"I don't-" Myka started, her breath catching, "I can't-" she tried again, swallowing.

"Shh, darling," Helena kept brushing back dark curly hair with left hand while her right grasped onto Myka's, "rest now. I'm not going anywhere." Myka choked back a thick sob and squeezed Helena's hand. After a few quiet moments, she surrendered to hazy pain and gentle caresses.

/

"So, you are saying that," Paracelsus began, energy crackling from his fingertips, "Because of one upsetting conversation, you've decided to betray your entire team? Decided you would be willing and able to kill anyone in your way? Oh yes, I'd say that sounds quite likely." With a flick of his wrist, Claudia's body jerked and flew several aisles away.

"Frak," she muttered, grabbing her shoulder where it had slammed into the ground, "that's going to leave a mark."

"You don't understand," she called out after a moment.

No response. _Double frak._ She could feel her bravado slipping away. Maybe this hadn't been her smartest plan ever.

"What Artie did to me," she tried again, "it wasn't just _upsetting._ I found out that he's the reason my entire life has been a nightmare. And now I'd like to repay the favor."

"Prove it," Paracelsus' voice boomed out from somewhere in the Warehouse.

Claudia smiled. _Well, that's a start._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews! These next few parts are heavy Bering and Wells because, well, they're the best. Also, have you seen the youtube phenomenon that shows H.G.'s google searches? Hilarious. (This has nothing to do with my story, I just think it's funny.)

**Chapter three**

The next time Myka awoke, the pale light of pre-dawn was filtering through the blinds. The pain in her midsection reminded her what had happened and where she was. However, it was the foreign feeling of warm weight settled on her right hand that nudged her over the edge of consciousness. She blinked a few times to clear her blurry vision and gazed upon a mess of black hair splayed on the mattress next to her. Helena was sound asleep, still technically in the chair, but much of her body had slumped forward onto the bed. Her head was nestled into the crook of her right arm and her left hand limply rested atop Myka's.

For a moment, Myka held her breath, sure that Helena was about to stir and dart out of the room. Or maybe she wasn't really there to begin with. When she realized the other woman was, in fact, still dead to the world, Myka brought her left hand up to rub her eyes. In her sleep, even H.G. Wells looked peaceful. She wasn't anxious, she wasn't tortured, she wasn't hiding behind a ridiculously cocky facade. She was just asleep like anyone else- but Helena Wells was not like anyone else. Not wanting to dwell on those feelings, Myka reached for the call button. While she waited, she unabashedly stared at Helena. Seeing the other woman looking so vulnerable quieted some of the fuzzy half-thoughts floating around Myka's mind for the time being.

When the heavyset nurse stepped into the room, Myka quickly held her left pointer finger up to her lips. The nurses mouth morphed into an "O" and she took a few exaggerated tiptoeing steps up to the bed. Against her will, Myka's mouth twisted into a crooked grin.

"Good morning, Ms. Bering," the nurse whispered.

"Morning," Myka replied, "what time is it?" She cringed as she attempted to shift without disturbing H.G.

"Oh, just after 5 am," the silver-haired woman told her as she checked Myka's vitals, "How are you feeling?"

"Not great," Myka bit her lip, "There's some discomfort."

"Of course, that's completely normal. I'll send an orderly back around with a painkiller in just a few minutes," she checked Myka's chart, making a few notes, "No known allergies?" Myka shook her head. The nurse smiled.

"I'm Nurse Fitzpatrick. Please go ahead and buzz if you need anything," she replaced the chart and glanced at H.G., "Do you want me to try to sneak a pillow under her?"

Myka shook her head, "She's a light sleeper, but thank you." The nurse nodded and left the room. Myka watched her go and then shifted her attention back to Helena.

After a moment's hesitation, she sandwiched H.G.'s hand with her free one. Against her will, she was happy that Helena was here with her. Of course she had thought about calling her, but what could she say? H.G. had made it perfectly clear that she wanted a normal life or, at least, was convincing herself that she wanted it. Though this wasn't a warehouse-related issue, it was certainly complicated.

A dying _friend_ , Myka thought bitterly, would not fit into H.G.'s perfect suburban picture with Nate and Adelaine. She pushed the angry thoughts from her head and sighed. No, she wouldn't have actually called Helena, but that didn't mean she hadn't wished it.

How many different scenarios had flashed through Myka's head on the drive to the hospital, as she waited to be prepped for surgery, as the anesthesiologist told her to count backwards from 10? How many of them starred Helena, miraculously swooping in at the last moment? _Too many_ , she mused, furrowing her brow. And then for the British woman to simply be there when she woke up? To tell her she wasn't leaving? In her haze, Myka had assumed it was a dream, a trick of her subconscious. But now, Myka was surely awake and Helena was, in fact, still there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the squeak of a sneaker on the linoleum. Myka winced as she felt H.G.'s body stiffen, but the British woman simply squeezed her hand tighter and pulled it underneath her chin.

An orderly approached her bedside without comment, holding a small paper cup. Myka smiled her thanks, quickly tipping the pill onto her tongue. She traded the empty cup for the plastic one by her bed and took several gulps of water. The orderly replaced the cup on Myka's tray, nodded and shuffled away from the bed.

Helena grunted softly, nuzzling her face into their clasped hands. Trapped and unsure of what to do, Myka's heart beat a bit faster. H.G. shifted further, turning their hands over so Myka's palm faced upwards, and began peppering her wrist with feather light kisses. Panicking, Myka awkwardly cleared her throat and tried to ease her arm away from it's entrapment.

The movement was enough to break Helena's sleepy trance. She jerked her head up, eyes half-shut.

"Myka," she slurred, releasing her grip on Myka's hand and clumsily rubbing her face.

"Good morning," Myka replied, unsure what to do with her now free hand, "I'm sorry for waking you." H.G. made a soft pft sound, pulling her chair in closer to the edge of the bed as she sat back upright.

"No matter," the drowsy woman explained, "I'm happy you did." She lifted an arm and used it to crack her neck. Myka winced.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep on you," H.G. added a bit sheepishly, glancing at Myka's upturned hand, "I do hope I didn't cling too tightly."

"No," she smiled, "not _too_ tightly." At that Helena looked down with a grin, but brought her hand up to fiddle with her locket.

"How do you feel?" she asked without meeting Myka's eyes. Myka quirked her lips, considering the question.

"All things considered, not too bad," Helena looked at her then, gauging the response. "Not very good, though, either," she added. H.G. nodded at that, looking down again.

"Helena," Myka began softly, "what are you doing here?"

"Mrs. Frederick called me," H.G replied automatically. Myka waited a moment for more exposition, but, none forthcoming, she pressed on.

"OK..." she drawled, shifting to sit up as much as she felt she could, "but why did you come?"

"Where else would I be?!" H.G snapped, finally looking up, her eyes glistening. Myka passively tried to reach out for her hand.

"She told me you needed-" Helena took a shaky breath, "you needed someone here. So, of course I came, Myka. Are you really surprised by that? After everything? What you must think of me..." Helena trailed off as she pushed the chair back and stood up.

Shaking her head, Myka pleaded, "Wait, Helena, I didn't mean-"

"I'm sorry, Myka," H.G. interrupted, facing away from the bed, "I'm not quite awake. I hope you'll forgive that little outburst." Without waiting for a response, she briskly walked over to the in-suite bathroom and shut the door behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

Helena rinsed the toothpaste out of her mouth and splashed some water on her face. She rested her palms on the edges of the hospital sink, taking in her tired reflection. She sighed deeply and shook her head as water dripped off her jaw, a few rivlets sneaking their way down her neck. She was thoroughly exhausted and, moreover, extremely frustrated and embarrassed that she had snapped at Myka.

_She had been taking a break at work, nursing a cup of tea and perusing the newspaper, when her cell phone hummed from its place in her bag. She froze. The only people who had that particular phone number were the regents, and they didn't often call for a nice chat._

" _Hello," she swiftly answered the call._

" _Good afternoon, Ms. Wells," Irene Frederick's powerful voice filtered through the speaker._

" _Mrs. Frederick," she replied, sitting back down with a smile, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" She was easily H.G.'s favorite of the Warehouse higher ups._

" _Helena," she started, softer now, "I'm afraid I have some bad news." The smile immediately slipped from H.G.'s face._

" _H.G.?" Mrs. Frederick gently questioned, "Are you there?"_

" _Who?" Helena asked, her heart thudding in her chest, "Which one of them?"_

" _It's Myka," Irene replied simply after a pause._

" _No," H.G. breathed out, tears rapidly pooling in her eyes, time freezing around her._

" _Helena, she's very ill," Mrs. Frederick continued._

" _Ill?" she choked out, "She's not- She isn't-" Helena couldn't bring herself to finish._

" _Agent Bering is very much alive, Ms. Wells."_

" _What the bloody hell are you playing at, Irene?" Helena seethed, "I thought-"_

 _She swallowed back a sob, "You could have_ began _with that information."_

" _I'm sorry, Helena, I didn't realize you would be expecting the very worst," the caretaker replied evenly._

" _Of_ course _I expect the worst! This is the_ warehouse _we're talking about," she said bitterly, her breathing still ragged._

" _Ms. Wells," Irene warned._

" _Is it an artifact?" H.G. continued on, "A downside? What do I need to do?" She stood up and began packing her things._

" _Helena," Mrs. Frederick sounded exasperated._

" _Whatever it is, I'll find it," she babbled on, depositing her teacup in the sink, "I can be on a plane in one hour. Go ahead and make the arrangements."_

" _Helena," the stern sound of the caretaker's raised voice gave H.G. pause. "It's not like that." She screwed her face up in confusion._

" _Not like what?"_

" _Myka's illness is not Warehouse-related," she began, "She has cancer. Ovarian cancer."_ Cancer _. H.G. Wells blanched. She knew that medical technology had come a long way while she was in bronze, but she couldn't help to think of the disease as a death sentence._

" _Helena?" she could barely hear Mrs. Frederick calling her, "Ms. Wells?"_

" _Hmm?" she responded absently._

" _We don't have a lot of information right now. Myka is about to undergo surgery that will tell us more about how far the cancer has progressed and what treatment options she will have."_

" _Yes, of course," Helena automatically replied, staring off at nothing, "a biopsy. So, we just wait?" There was no immediate response from the other end._

" _I'm afraid I have an awfully big favor to ask of you," Mrs. Frederick began, "I know you no longer wish to have any connection to the Warehouse, but I don't have many options." When Helena didn't reply, she continued on._

" _The rest of the agents are in the midst of a crisis, and I don't think Agent Lattimer would forgive any of us if Myka woke up alone after surgery."_

" _Is everyone else alright?" H.G. blinked._

" _For the time being."_

_Helena nodded to herself, "What time is my flight?" A pause._

" _Can you make it to the airport in 45 minutes?"_

" _Yes, have a car waiting for me at Rapid City," Helena hung up._

_The next few hours had been a blur. Helena hastily told her boss a sloppy story about a family emergency and was already starting her car by the time he was able to register her words. She drove back to the house recklessly, a woman possessed. She packed a bag in record time, though she wasn't entirely cognizant of all the items she blindly grabbed._

_She was already parking at the airport by the time she realized she hadn't left a note or called Nate._

" _Bollocks," she muttered to herself, killing the engine. She checked her watch; she had made it to the Dane County Regional Airport in only 35 minutes. She grabbed her phone from the dashboard and typed out a quick message to Nate:_ So sorry- have to leave town for an emergency. Will fill you in later. Give Adelaide my love. _Once the message was sent, she immediately powered down the phone and tucked it deep within a pocket of her bag. She pulled her Warehouse phone out of her pocket and made sure the volume of the ringer was up high. With one last nod, she collected her bags and rushed to her terminal._

And here she was. Between then and now, she had read as much about ovarian cancer as she possibly could on the iPhone the regents had supplied her with months ago. It really was an amazing little device, she allowed, pulling it from her pocket now to check the time and see if she had any messages.

 _5:20 am,_ she noted with a nod. She had definitely seen the clock reach four, so she couldn't have gotten much more than an hour of sleep. Replacing the phone in her pocket, she exited the bathroom. Myka was sitting more upright, her eyes downcast in her lap.

"Right then," H.G. announced, taking a few steps toward the bed, "I will go find a physician."

"Wait," Myka looked up, "Can you just wait a minute? Can we talk?" Helena tilted her head with a slight grimace. Myka's eyes were wide and pleading and so, of course, she would wait. She sat back in her chair and waited for Myka to take the lead.

"I'm sorry," the agent began sincerely, "I really didn't mean to imply anything, I swear. I just- I didn't expect to see you here. It was a lot to take in."

"Yes," Helena offered with a wry smile, but set her gaze on the machines and wires surrounding Myka, "on that point I think we can agree." Helena was itching to go talk to a doctor, unsure of how much longer she could keep her emotions in check.

"But, Helena?" Myka asked, trying to get the other woman to look at her once more.

"Yes, darling?" she replied, gazing back at the other woman.

"I'm really glad you're here," green eyes shone with tears as Myka bit her lip.

"Oh, Myka," Helena's voice shook, "please. I- I'm not sure I can do this right now. Let me just go-" Helena paused as Myka covered her hand.

"No," she said, "we _have_ to do this now. Before I talk to the doctor, before I know..." Helena's eyes fluttered closed as Myka squeezed her hand.

"Myka," Helena voice was desperate, "I need to be strong. Please, you have to let me be strong for you." A tear trickled down her cheek.

"Hel-"

"No, Myka, you see," H.G. interrupted, "I need to hold myself together. Because if I can hold myself together, then I can hold you together. And then we will make you well, because- Because I _need_ you to be well. Do you understand?" She opened her eyes and regarded Myka with blurred vision. Myka nodded, a few tears of her own dripping down her cheeks.

"Ok, Helena," she whispered.

H.G. stood up quickly, turning around as she hastily wiped at her face.

"I'll just be a moment," she tried to sound bright, but her voice was still shaking.

"I'll be here," Myka told the empty room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is reading! Hopefully, I'll have a title within the next chapter or two.

**Chapter five**

 

“Well,” Mrs. Frederick deadpanned, “I suppose it should be said that this isn’t the craziest plan this team has ever presented.”

“It’ll work,” Steve nodded, his eyes bright.

“Yes, Agent Jinks,” the woman agreed, “I think it just might. However, how do you expect to implement it? The last time I checked, the warehouse was encased in a force field.”

“Ah, yes,” Artie cut in, “Well, I think I might have a solution to that very minor inconvenience.”

 _I’m sure you do, Arthur,_ she mused to herself, quirking up her eyebrow.

 

/

 

“Myka,” the doctor came striding into the hospital room, H.G. trailing a few steps behind, “good morning. How are you feeling?”

“I think the painkiller is kicking in,” Myka’s eyes were looking a bit unfocused.

“Heh,” the doctor chuckled, flipping through her chart, “good stuff, huh?” Myka smiled and looked over at Helena.

“Well, in that case, I’ll keep this very brief for now,” he inhaled deeply, but before he could begin H.G.’s phone started playing Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time.”

“Bollocks,” she muttered sheepishly, silencing the call, “sorry.”

“Take it,” Myka told her, her lips quirked up in amusement.

“I’ll call them right back.”

“Please, Helena,” the pleading eyes were back and H.G. knew she was a goner. She nodded to Myka and the doctor, answering the phone as she walked into the hallway.

“This had better be important,” she said by way of a greeting.

“It is,” Mrs. Frederick didn’t miss a beat, “How is Myka?” Helena softened at the obvious concern in the other woman’s voice.

“She’s alright,” Helena began, pushing a hand through her dark locks, “She’s only been awake for a few minutes. The doctor is talking to her currently, so I should have more concrete information for you very soon.”

“Excellent,” Mrs. Frederick paused, “Helena, I'm sorry to put you in this position- but it seems the warehouse requires your services one more time."

"What's happening?" H.G. inquired warily.

"Since time is of the essence, I will be brief," Mrs. Frederick began, "Claudia is currently attempting to stop an evil, extremely powerful, genius from gaining full control of the warehouse. My connection as caretaker has been severed. And we also have no way of reaching Claudia, as the warehouse has enabled the force field for protection."

"Bloody hell," H.G. muttered, "And why, may I inquire, am I just hearing about this now?"

"I didn't think it would come to this," Mrs. Frederick responded honestly, "I was trying to respect your decision to stay away from the warehouse." Helena sighed.

"Yes, but Claudia is in very real danger, is she not?"

"She is."

"Then my _decision_ becomes moot. What can I do to help her?" came H.G.'s stubborn reply.

"We have a plan," Irene told her, "but we have no way of getting into the warehouse to implement it. Arthur thought, and I agree, that it might be worth a try to test your special connection."

"Apples..." H.G. whispered.

"Yes, Helena, apples," Mrs. Frederick agreed, "Make no mistake, this will be a very risky mission. If you-"

"That won't be necessary, Irene. I suppose you'll want me there as soon as possible?" she questioned.

"Yes, we have no time to lose. Mrs. Lattimer should be at the hospital in the next fifteen minutes to sit with Myka. Meet us at the warehouse."

"Righty-ho, then," As she ended the call, Helena's eyes twinkled despite herself. She certainly had missed the thrill of this life. Steadying herself with a deep breath, she walked back into Myka's room. Both Myka and the doctor immediately looked over to her.

"Sorry to interrupt," she strode to Myka's bedside, "What have I missed?"

"Will you excuse us for a few minutes, Dr. Brown?" Myka asked while studying Helena's face intently, her expression unreadable.

"Of course, ladies," he told them with a comforting smile, "Myka, I'll be back finish this conversation in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Myka turned her attention to the doctor and watched him leave.

"What's up?" Myka re-trained her eyes on H.G.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time to chat, darling, the warehouse beckons. What did the doctor say?"

"You're leaving?" Myka sputtered, "When?"

"Now, I'm afraid," Helena said as soothingly as she could, "So, if you could just please tell me whatever Dr. Brown has told you"

"Helena," Myka implored, "tell me what's going on."

"Just a bit of a crisis," Helena's attempted levity fell flat, "Nothing for you to worry about. What did your physician say, Myka?" Myka glared at her.

"You're not telling me something."

Helena sighed, "You can be rather infuriating when you set your mind to it." Myka raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Fine," she pursed her lips, "It would appear Claudia is engaged in some sort of battle for the warehouse and I am the only one who may be able to reach her to help."

"Paracelsus is free?" Myka's eyes widened.

"Yes, I suppose," Helena told her, "though Mrs. Frederick conveniently omitted the who in her briefing."

"Damnit," Myka spat, "Damnit, dammit." She shook her head.

"Stop fretting, darling," Helena covered Myka's hand with her own, "I intend to ride in, teslas blazing, and save the day." Myka couldn't help but grin at that, but her expression quickly changed.

"This is serious," she warned.

"I'm very aware of that. It is also time-sensitive, so be a dear and tell me what your physician said." Myka shook her head.

"There isn't time for that now," she told her.

"Myka! You blasted woman! There would have been plenty of time if you would have just done as I asked in the beginning." Myka couldn't help but smile at Helena's exasperated tone.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Myka, you have to tell me _something_ ," Helena implored. Again, Myka shook her head, her mirthful expression fading.

"Not now. I promise we'll talk when you get back," Myka forced a hopeful smile back onto her lips, "Now go be a hero, Agent Wells. Claudia needs you." Helena glared for only a moment more.

"Alright," she began, "but I expect a _full_ report the instant I return." Myka mock saluted from her spot on the bed. Helena squeezed her hand and collected her bag.

She paused by the doorway, "You were right about one thing, Agent Bering."

"What's that?"

"It appears that you and I are destined for much more than simple coffee dates." Myka made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"For a genius, it sure took you a long time to figure that out," Myka said gently, playfully. H.G. simply smiled and turned to leave.

"Helena," Myka added, pausing at the other woman's hum in response, "please be safe."

"I promise, darling," she flashed Myka a brilliant smile and headed off to face unknown danger.

/

 

When Jane Lattimer walked into the hospital room not ten minutes later, she found Myka weeping with her head in her hands.

"Myka!" she exclaimed, rushing to her bedside, "What is it? Should I get a nurse?"

"Jane," Myka choked out, trying to catch her breath, "no. I'm okay. Sorry."

"Here," the older woman poured her a cup of water, "Now, what's the matter sweetheart?"

Myka took a long pull of water and tried to regulate her erratic breathing.

"That's good, deep breaths," Jane encouraged.

"Thanks," Myka said finally.

"Of course, Myka," Mrs. Lattimer replied kindly, "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Myka barked a humorless laugh.

"Oh, just... everything?" Myka said wiping the tears from her cheeks, "I'm laying in a hospital bed because I have _cancer_. One of my best friends is trapped in the warehouse, fighting for her life and the fate of, pretty much, the world. And Helena..."

"What about her?"

"I _just_ got her back. And now she's off throwing herself right in the thick of the danger, because," Myka sighed, "because of course she is. Because she wouldn't be her if she wasn't cocky and noble and reckless and... I know I'm being really selfish right now, I do. Claudia obviously needs her more than I do." Myka took a deep breath.

"Thanks for coming, Jane," she said sincerely.

"It's my pleasure, Myka," came Mrs. Lattimer's warm reply as she covered Myka’s hand with her own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a title. Of course, it may change, because I find naming things to be one of the most difficult aspects of writing. Also, the angst level is getting kind of high.

**Chapter six**

The rented sedan tossed Helena up, straining the seatbelt, as she took yet another pothole with too much speed. She merely grimaced and pressed the accelerator harder. She could see the Warehouse, encased in shimmering blue light, looming large in the distance. She was only just now beginning to make out the faces of the figures congregated around various parked cars. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind then she saw Pete look over his shoulder at her. She only had time to take in his red-rimmed eyes before he quickly turned and, head down, walked over to let himself into the SUV.

"No," H.G. whispered to herself, "Please, no." Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she set her face to stone. She would not cry right now. She would find a way to fix this- to fix  _everything_.

 _You're H.G.-sodding-Wells,_  she thought to herself,  _This situation just needs a bit of tinkering with to make it work. It is simply another puzzle that requires a solution, and there is no one better suited for that than you. Claudia needs you. Myka needs you. Myka..._  A strangled sound escaped from deep within Helena's throat. She slammed her hands on the steering wheel and choked out an angry, "Fuck!"

Noting that she was rapidly approaching the others, she tried to control her suddenly panicked breathing.

"Stop it," she told herself, wiping at her eyes, "There is no time for this right now."

She pulled up a few yards from the group, taking a few extra seconds to put the car in park. Inhaling deeply one last time, she ran her hands through her hair and exited the car.

"Ms. Wells," Mr. Kosan strode to meet her, extending his arm, "I cannot begin to thank you enough for coming." She shook the offered hand, nodding.

"Please, don't mention it," she told him sincerely, "There's nowhere I'd rather be." She turned to take in the rest of the group behind him.

"Hello, everyone." They all looked dreadful, and she imagined that she probably looked worse.

Artie smiled sadly at her; she could see tears in his eyes.  _Dear God,_  she thought, glancing down,  _don't make this harder than it already is._  Before anyone could respond to her greeting, she powered right along.

"Well, I believe we have work to do," she said, bringing her gaze back up, "who would like to bring me up to speed?"

"Thank you, Helena," Mrs. Frederick said warmly, "Unfortunately, we don't have much more information than what I've already told you."

"So, we have no idea what Paracelsus' ultimate plan is?" H.G. questioned.

"You know Paracelsus?" Artie interrupted.

"Well, not personally, of course," H.G. answered, not meeting his eyes, "but I  _have_  read quite a lot about him."

"Of course you would've," Artie replied, nodding, "I should have known." He paused, his mouth halfway open.

"H.G..." he began again, "Pete wanted-"

"That's enough, Artie" she said firmly, looking down as she brought her hand up to fondle the locket around her neck, "I would rather appreciate it if we could keep our focus on the task at hand. I hope you can understand."

"Oh. Sure, yes," Artie gave her another pitiful smile.  _Please stop doing that,_  she silently implored, her heart breaking more and more.

"Helena," Mrs. Frederick entered back into the conversation, "in order to set everything right, we need to bronze Paracelsus. It's the only way to get the Warehouse to stop recognizing him as Caretaker." The thought of the bronzer didn't bother H.G. as much as she thought it might. She nodded grimly.

"However, being the one who perfected the process, Paracelsus has ingested a combination of chemicals which make him impervious to bronzing," Irene continued.

"But, thanks to Artie," Steve stepped closer, "we have this." He opened his hand to reveal a small syringe filled about halfway with a greenish liquid.

"According to my research and calculations, this solution should undo the effects and allow Paracelsus to be bronzed normally," Artie told her.

"It also has a tranquilizer," Steve added, "So, once you stick him, bronzing him should be pretty easy."

"How, may I ask, am I to," Helena paused, "'stick him?'"

"Well," Steve answered, tilting his head from side to side, "we're  _hoping_  you'll have the element of surprise. He doesn't expect anyone else to be able to enter the Warehouse."

"And if I lose that element?" H.G. pushed. In response, Steve just gave her an empathetic shrug.

"Helena, do not misunderstand," Mrs. Frederick interceded, "this is, by no means, a fully thought-through plan. It is, probably at best, a last ditch effort." Helena sighed and nodded, holding out her hand to take the syringe.

"Let's get on with it, then," she tucked the needle safely in the inner pocket of her vest, "unless there's anything else I should know?" She glanced around the group.

"H.G..." Artie quickly brought his hand up to wave away the argument he could see forming on Helena's lips, "I just- Be careful in there." And then Arthur Nielsen hugged her. After recovering from the initial shock, Helena returned the embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered, trying fiercely to keep her emotions in check. They pulled apart and shared one last look before she turned to face the Warehouse.

"I suppose I just walk up to it?" she asked over her shoulder.

"That's our best guess," Mrs. Frederick offered. With a final nod, H.G. Wells stepped up to the force field. She paused when nothing immediately happened.

"Hello," she whispered after a few moments, feeling foolish, "I, um, I would-" Suddenly, there was a hole growing in the translucent blue wall in front of her. When the hole was large enough to be considered a portal, she stepped through. The gap in the force field closed right behind her.

"Thank you very much," she added with a grin, opening the door.

/

"Hey again," Pete said into the phone with a sniffle as he shifted in the leather driver's seat.

"Pete?" Myka's voice rose in alarm, "what's going on?"

"Oh, no, sorry Mykes," Pete told her, "everything is okay. Just updating you, like you asked me to."

"Oh," Myka exhaled, "yeah. Thanks. Sorry, your voice sounded- And I thought-"

"It's okay," Pete told her, taking a deep breath, "H.G. got into the Warehouse."

"Already? That was fast. That seems too fast, right? Did she get enough information? Was she ready? How did she seem, overall?" Myka flew through her questions.

"I, uh, I don't really know," he sighed.

"Pete?"

"I, kind of, hid in the car," he explained.

"Pete," Myka chastised.

"I'm sorry, Mykes, but she was going to see it all over my face. I couldn't talk to her, I just couldn't," he broke down.

"Oh, Pete," her voice wavered, "it's okay."

"It's not okay!" he barked through his tears, "Nothing is okay right now, Myka!"

"You think I don't know that?" she yelled right back, " _I'm_  the one that's dying here, Pete, so I'm well aware of how fucked up everything is, thank you  _very_  much!" He heard rustling and then some footsteps through the phone.

"Peter Mitchell Lattimer," his mother's voice was low and angry.

"Mom..." he whispered.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" she questioned.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You're going to be sorry, mister. This poor girl is here fighting like hell to be strong through all this. The very last thing she needs is her partner and  _best friend_  driving her to scream and cry," she fumed.

"You're right," he agreed, "I shouldn't have done that, I just can't- Mom, I can't lose her," he pleaded.

"Pete, the best thing we can do for Myka right now is to support her and keep our heads level. Now, if you can't do that, you better let me know right now," Jane told him.

"I can," he said quietly.

"What was that, Peter? I couldn't hear what you mumbled," she said flatly.

"Mom," he sighed, "I'm trying."

"Try harder, son," came her simple response. He nodded into the phone.

"Can you please tell her I'm sorry? Let her know I'll keep you guys updated?" Pete questioned, wiping his eyes.

"Of course, honey," Jane told him, "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom," he replied, "Thank you."

/

Jane ended the call and took the few steps necessary to get back into Myka's hospital room. As she rounded the corner of the doorway, she locked eyes with Dr. Vanessa Calder, who had arrived not long after she herself had. Dr. Calder had spoken to the doctor and gotten herself acquainted with Myka's case, while she and Myka tried to make sense of the news they had just received.

Myka's cancer was late stage and widespread. Even just thinking the words now made Jane feel sick to her stomach. There were treatment options, of course, but the doctor had been clear that the five-year survival rate was very low.

Jane gave a small smile to Vanessa, who was rubbing Myka's arm soothingly, and walked over to the other side of the bed.

"Myka," she began softly, placing her hand on top of the younger woman's, "my son wanted me to tell you that he is very sorry."

"He doesn't have to apologize, Jane," Myka shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck, "he has every right to be upset." Jane squeezed her hand.

"You are a remarkable woman, Myka Bering," she told her, "It's easy to see why my son loves you so much."

"Oh," Myka's tear-rimmed eyes widened, "Jane, um, I- Pete and I aren't, you know. I mean I love him, but he's like my brother and-" Myka was interrupted by Jane's throaty laugh.

"Myka, honey," she chuckled, "relax. I didn't mean romantically." She laughed again.

"You and Pete, together," Vanessa shook her head with mirth.

"What's so funny about that? I mean, I'm attractive... right?" Myka looked unsure of herself.

"Of course you are, Myka," Jane said soothingly, "I just thought it was a funny image, because it's so obvious that your interests lie elsewhere."

"What do you mean, my 'interests lie elsewhere?'" Myka narrowed her eyes in confusion. Jane's eyebrows shot up.  _Oh dear,_  she thought.

"I just meant that it's obvious you aren't interested in Pete," Jane backtracked.

"But they way you said it, you made it sound like I was obviously interested in someone else?" Myka questioned. Jane opened her mouth to respond and looked to Vanessa for help. The other woman just subtly shrugged and shook her head.

"Time for a vitals check," Nurse Fitzpatrick announced as she entered the room.  _Thank you, Jesus,_  Jane thought as she exhaled. Myka peered at her suspiciously, but, thankfully, said nothing more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'm moving this weekend and it is just the worst. Enjoy!

**Chapter seven**

H.G. closed the Warehouse door silently behind her. Exhaling, she turned and took a few steps inside. _Well,_ she thought nodding to herself, _step one taken care of. Only about 100 more-_ "Who's there?" Helena's thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice that seemed to come from the Warehouse itself.

She had just opened her mouth to respond when something rope-like came flying at her. It wrapped around her waist and tugged her off her feet. With a sharp jerk, Helena felt her body go soaring through the air. She was equal parts terrified and exhilarated, moving so quickly that she couldn't make out any of the aisles blurring by. After a few more moments of flight, H.G. was clumsily deposited on the cold concrete of the Warehouse floor.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, rubbing her hip where it had slammed into the ground.

"H.G.!" Helena turned her head sharply at the sound. _Claudia, thank God._

"What are you doing here?" Claudia asked excitedly, rushing towards her. Helena could tell the younger woman wanted to kneel down and hug her, but she showed considerable restraint. Claudia merely extended a hand to help H.G. off the ground.

"Yes, _H.G._ , I would love to know the answer to that as well," Helena heard a bemused voice as she struggled to her feet.

"Parry, this is H.G. Wells," Claudia explained, sounding a bit nervous.

"I'm rather more curious as to how our lady was able to enter my Warehouse, actually," Paracelsus stepped closer, eyeing Helena suspiciously.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she began, brushing herself off, "When I heard what was happening, I simply wanted to see the great Paracelsus for myself. You're quite famous, you know. I honestly didn't believe I'd gain entrance inside."

Helena paused for a response. None forthcoming, she continued.

"I suppose I've always had a special connection to the Warehouse, perhaps it recognized that in me. In fact, I do believe I would've been in line to become Caretaker of Warehouse 12... had events transpired differently," she looked away.

"Warehouse 12?" Paracelsus questioned.

"Oh!" Claudia interjected, "I've been a bad host. Parry, H.G., you've both experienced being trapped in bronze for over a hundred years. Discuss."

Helena smiled wryly while Paracelsus simply glared at the young redhead.

"Claudia, dear," H.G. drawled, "tact."

Paracelsus smirked at that and turned his attention to Helena.

"Well, then," he asked her, "what's your story?"

"Oh," she smiled, "it's really not all that interesting." Claudia scoffed.

"Yeah, not interesting at all. Let's see, where to start... Oh, I know a good fun fact! H.G. here invented a _time machine._ And it actually works," Claudia told him, "She also invented a fraking rocket ship in the 19th century. Plus, a ton of other incredible things. There _was_ one time that she tried to end the world, but we're all pretty much over that." Helena raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, nodding at Claudia.

"Not a terrible summary, darling," she agreed.

"And you were bronzed because you attempted to bring about an apocalypse?" Paracelsus asked as he bent back over his work table, making a notation.

"Actually, no," H.G. rubbed the locket hanging around her neck as Paracelsus looked up again questioningly, "that was just a few years ago. I was bronzed because I requested it."

"You _requested_ it?" Paracelsus repeated.

"I had just gone through something tragic, and I had this silly notion that perhaps the world would be a better place when I returned to it. I thought, I _hoped_ , I would awaken to progress- to a utopia," Helena kept her eyes down as she spoke.

"Progress," Paracelsus again mimicked her words, "Yes, I agree. This world does need a push forward. In fact, with the help of the Warehouse, I intend to make that happen." He smiled. Helena had to admit he did have a certain charm about him.

"Care for an extra set of hands?" H.G. asked, looking up at him.

/

"This is a good sign, right?" Pete asked, walking over from the SUV, "I mean, the Warehouse didn't spit her out or anything yet. That's good?"

"Yeah," Artie answered, nodding, but didn't look up from Claudia's laptop, "probably."

"Probably?" Pete asked.

"Yes, it is _probably_ a good sign," Artie said, straightening up for a moment, "but we just don't know anything, Pete. And we won't know anything until _someone_ comes out of that door."

He gave Pete a somewhat sympathetic look and bent back over the laptop that was perched on his car's hood. Pete took in the scene in front of him.

"Hey, Artie, man, why don't you head back to the B&B to do that?" Pete said gently, "We can Farnsworth you the minute that door opens. I bet Mrs. Frederick and Kosan would be more helpful with research than me and Jinksy."

"Speak for yourself," Steve piped up from his spot on the ground.

"I'm fine, Pete, thank you," Artie replied distractedly.

"Are you sure? You could probably get more done?" Pete pushed.

"I'm not leaving Claudia," Artie stated firmly. Pete nodded and walked over to him.

"Any luck yet?" He looked over Artie's shoulder at the laptop screen, "Anything that can help Myka?" As he invaded the older agent's space, Artie threw him a mock annoyed glare. He softened when he saw Pete's earnest expression.

"Nothing concrete yet," Artie sighed, "You'll be the first to know."

"We've got to find something," Pete pleaded, "soon."

"And we will," Artie responded, "We just need to make sure we think this through thoroughly. Using an artifact on Myka could leave her with a downside even worse than the cancer."

Pete sighed loudly.

"She's already dying, Artie. What could be worse?"

"Pete," Artie began, closing his eyes.

"No, but really," Pete retorted, "if we do nothing, she's almost definitely going to die. And it'll be slow and- and painful and terrible. What's worse than that?"

"In the past fifteen minutes, I have looked into six artifacts that might help Myka," Artie spun around to face Pete, "Four of them would kill at _least_ one other person in ways I can't begin to describe to you. One would ruin our entire ecosystem and slowly bring about another ice age. And the last... the last. I won't say it out loud." Artie grimaced and turned back to the laptop.

"Well, uh, I guess we should keep looking," Pete replied lamely.

/

"So, what are you working on, then?" Helena asked as she approached the work table. Paracelsus looked up, his eyes calculating.

"Claudia," his eyes didn't leave H.G., "will you go fetch me the stone? It's in the bronze sector."

"Uh, yeah," Claudia responded, "Yeah, of course."

"Be cautious," Paracelsus glanced at her. Claudia nodded and walked away.

"The stone?" H.G. questioned.

"Yes, the philosopher's stone," he said evenly, watching her reaction.

"Really?" Helena stepped with excitement, "You have the philosopher's stone?" He nodded smugly.

"I've already used it to achieve immortality," he told her, "Now I want to see how else I might exploit it." She raised her eyebrow, her wheels turning. Mrs. Frederick had certainly left out that fact in the briefing.

"So, you cannot be killed?" She questioned, "You do not age?"

"Correct," Paracelsus answered distractedly, making more notes, "That is what immortal means."

"What about disease?" Helena added, "Can you fall ill?" He thought on that for a moment.

"No, I suppose if I were exposed to an illness, my body would repair itself rapidly- the same way it will for an injury," he explained.

"Fascinating," H.G. nodded, stepping closer and doing her best to cover her giddy excitement with rapt engrossment. A plan was unfolding within her mind. She took just a moment to plot her next move.

"You are aware that Claudia's allegiances do not lie with you," she stated, leaning towards him, "aren't you?"

"Of course," he told her, "I'm not a damned fool. However, she _is_ quite intelligent. I see no harm in allowing her to believe I trust her; she has been a capable assistant thus far."

"She certainly is that," H.G. agreed, nodding.

"Actually, I believe she will be integral to my next experiment," Paracelsus added with a rakish grin. Helena bit back the bile rising in her throat and returned the expression.


	8. Chapter eight

**Chapter eight**

Helena felt a current of air at her back as the Warehouse door shut with a loud thud. She took a few steps to pass through the hole that had appeared in the wall of blue light in front of her. Blinking her eyes against the bright sunlight, she focused her vision on the three men who were closing in on her fast.

"Hello, boys," she smiled brightly.

"Where's Claud? What happened?" Steve spoke first.

"Claudia is holding her own," H.G. answered while pushing a few strands of hair out of her face, "I assure you she is perfectly alright for the time being."

"What's going on? Paracelsus hasn't been bronzed?" Artie asked anxiously.

"Unfortunately, no," Helena strode toward the makeshift camp that had been set up around the Agents' parked cars, "I promise I will explain everything, Artie, but first I need you to book a plane ticket to San Francisco for Agent Jinks. As soon as possible."

It was a testament to the trust that had lately been growing between the two of them when Artie simply nodded, scampered to the laptop and began typing rapidly.

"Excuse me?" Steve questioned with wide eyes, "Do I get an explanation?"

"I'm dreadfully sorry, darling," H.G. replied while prodding the hip that had slammed into the ground earlier for any signs of bruising, "but I'm afraid there won't be enough time for you to hear my brilliant plan."

"She has a point, Steve," Artie interjected, looking up from the laptop, "I just got you on a flight leaving in less than an hour. You need to be gone. Now." Steve looked, bewildered, between the two of them.

"But rest assured Steven, it  _is_  brilliant," Helena smirked, "I hate to be a braggart, but I believe today I am living up to my moniker of genius."

"What's in San Francisco?" Jinks asked begrudgingly.

"Ah, yes, San Francisco," Helena tested the words in her mouth, "I would very much like to travel there someday. But today, I need you to collect some of that petrified wood that Paracelsus is so fond of. I believe Peter knows more than I do?" She looked to Pete.

"Uh, well, yeah," he sputtered, "It's at Coit Tower. But, why do we need that?"

"In time, I will explain it all," H.G. turned her attention to Steve, "But, for now, Agent Jinks, please just know that we need it- Claudia needs it. I would absolutely go myself, but there is something here that I need to attend to. Believe me when I say it is not something I am able to delegate. Do you understand?"

"Consider it done," Steve said with a nod.

"You are a wonderful man," Helena beamed, "We only need a few boards. I believe Peter will be able to give you more information should you require it. The quicker you return, the quicker this whole ordeal can end."

"Well, those are the magic words," Steve smiled as he turned and jogged toward his Prius, "I'll be back as soon as I can!" He called out the last few words as he opened the driver's side door.

"Splendid," H.G. clasped her hands together, "Now, let us all retire to the B&B, and I shall fill you in on my plan. I am absolutely famished." Pete and Artie caught each other's skeptical look.

"H.G., are you okay?" Pete asked slowly.

"I am just ducky, Peter, thank you for asking," she smiled, "And once I have a hot meal in me I shall be even better." Artie narrowed his eyes.

"Did Paracelsus do something to you…" he trailed off.

"Oh, Arthur, really. Can't I be in a good mood?" she asked. Once again, Pete and Artie glanced at one another.

"Well, heh," Pete forced a smile, "it's a little weird that you're so happy right now. Ya know- considering everything that's going on?" He side stepped closer to the tesla sitting on the hood of Artie's car.

"Peter, I can see what you are doing," H.G. sighed dryly, putting up her hands, "I honestly thought we were over this, but I surrender." Pete stilled his movement and looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"Helena," Artie finally said, "we trust you." H.G. dropped her arms and tilted her head.

"You could've fooled me," her face broke into another wide smile, "Well then, loves, let's get on with it. We've things to do." She turned away from them and began to stride toward her rented car.

"You know how to save Myka," Pete said suddenly, "Right?" H.G. paused, her back turned to the men.

"I mean, there's no other way you would be in such a good mood," Pete guessed.

"I don't want to get your hopes up," Helena didn't turn around, "but I believe so."

"H.G.-" Pete started, stepping toward her, "Helena, do you-"

"I'll see you back at the B&B," H.G. interrupted, walking off to the car at a fast pace.

/

The hum of her cell phone against the bedside table stirred Myka from her thoughts. The TV was on softly in the background- more for Jane than herself. Myka looked at the Caller ID and quickly answered.

"Pete?" she questioned anxiously, "What's up?"

"Hey, Mykes, how're you feeling?" Pete greeted.

"Fine. A little sore, maybe, but okay. What's going on? Did something happen?" Myka shifted with a wince.

"H.G. came out of the Warehouse," Pete paused for a split second, "She's fine." Myka brought her other hand up to massage her temple without realizing it.

"Good," she breathed, "That's good." Her eyes widened.

"What about Claud?"

"H.G. says she's 'perfectly alright for the time being,'" Pete retorted, "which sounds awfully British and ominous if you ask me." Myka grinned into the phone.

"Anyway, she said she would fill us in at the B&B," Pete continued, "so that's where I'm heading now. Only other update is that she sent Jinksy to Frisco for some more of that petrified wood."

"She did?" Myka asked, feeling stupid. She internally cursed her cancer for making her weak and useless.

"Yeah, said Paracelsus wanted it. I guess she's trying to play him? I honestly don't know yet, Mykes," Pete told her.

"Right," Myka breathed, "Of course. But you'll call me as soon as you know? Dr. Vanessa is trying to get me discharged into her care, but it's taking longer than we thought it would."

"If you want, I can call you before H.G. explains anything and just put you on speaker phone. Sound good?" he asked gently.

"Oh, Pete," Myka bit her lip as she started tearing up again, "I don't know what I'd do without you. I only wish I could have met you when I was younger. I think my whole life might've been different."

"Mykes, if you had met me as a teenager you would've hated me," she could picture Pete grinning impishly.

"You probably would've tried to grab my ass," Myka added after a nearly silent, dry sob.

"Obviously," Pete choked out, he cleared his throat, "I really love you, Myka."

"I really love you, Pete," she said simply. There was a pause and she knew Pete was trying to compose himself.

"But, hey! H.G. says she has a plan!  _And_  she's being all overconfident and stuff, so that's a good sign."

"Oh yeah?" Myka inquired, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, you know how she gets. She's doing that… 'I'm a genius and I'm super awesome and I'm going to save the day' thing. That woman has so much swag."

"Mmm-hmm," Myka swallowed. She knew that side of Helena very well.

"It's super hot," he added.

"Pete," she chided, turning away from Jane's chair as her cheeks grew warm.

"What?" he asked innocently, "I can't not notice. Plus, I'm actually in a good mood right now."

"Because of how hot Helena is?" she whispered, her voice laced with disbelief. Pete laughed and Myka didn't notice Jane smirk at her words.

"Hmm, maybe?" he joked, "But, seriously, I've just got a really good vibe. H.G. said I shouldn't get my hopes up about her plan, but I already have."

"Pete," Myka sighed warily.

"What? I'm an optimist. Can't help that," Pete began, "And why do you always say my name like that?"

"Like what?" Myka asked.

"Like you're- you're exasperated by me all the time," he explained.

"Hmm, maybe I am?" Myka smiled into the phone.

"Hey!" Pete scoffed good-naturedly, "Well, looks like somebody won't be getting any get well soon gifts. And that's a real shame, Mykes, because I pick out the best treats."

"Trying to give Helena a run for her money in the overconfidence department?" Myka questioned with a chuckle.

"I know better than to pick a fight I can't win," he paused, "It's kinda weird how normal it feels to have her back around, right?"

"I guess?" Myka offered, the question taking her by surprise.

"I just mean, like after everything, you know? I guess she's kind of grown on me over the years." Myka's pulse quickened.  _Why is he bringing this up now?_

"I'm just trying to say, it's nice," Pete continued, seemingly oblivious to Myka's internal dialogue, "Don't you think it's nice?"

"Pete," Myka started softly, unsure of how to respond.

"There!" he exclaimed, "You did it again." Myka couldn't help but smile at that.

"But, anyway, it's not a trick question. I just figured, I don't know, having H.G. back around… It just might be kind of confusing or overwhelming or something," Pete spoke like he was walking on eggshells, "If you wanted to talk about it?" Myka's mind reeled. What was Pete trying to ask her? Of course it was confusing  _and_  overwhelming and lots of other things, but did she really want to acknowledge that? To Pete? To herself?

"Myka, you still there?" Pete asked gently.

"Yeah," Myka exhaled raggedly, "yeah, I'm here."

"Okay, sorry," he apologized, "You know, we don't have to talk about that."

"No, it's fine," Myka shook her head, "I just- There isn't much to say. Sure, it's nice. It's always nice when she's around. But, she's going to leave as soon as everything settles down, so I don't really see the point in talking about anything." Myka trailed off.

"Sorry, Mykes," Pete whispered after a moment. Myka sighed, but didn't say anything in reply.

"Listen, I just got to the B&B," Pete added, "I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?" Myka nodded to herself.

"Thanks, Pete," Myka said quietly, ending the call. She noticed Jane staring at her with sympathetic eyes. Though she knew the Lattimers meant well, she didn't think she could handle another emotionally draining conversation right now.

"Jane," Myka began, her eyes downcast, "I'm going to take a little nap, okay?"

"Of course, Myka," the other woman said kindly, "Get some rest."

Myka nodded and closed her eyes, hoping she could quiet the thoughts swirling around in her head. She had a feeling that rest would not come easily today.


	9. Chapter nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry it took me a minute on this chapter, I've been out of town.

**Chapter nine**

"Parry, buddy," Claudia grunted, struggling against the thick ropes that fastened her body tightly to a chair, "is this really necessary?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from his work, "Oh, yes, I believe it is. We still have a few hours before H.G. returns and, while you've been useful thus far, I don't want you getting any ideas. You are, in fact, to be a very important element in my next experiment."

"Heh, little old me?" Claudia chuckled, continuing to test her bindings. When Paracelsus didn't elaborate further, she pressed on. "So, uh, what will I have to do?"

"Do?" The man distractedly asked, "You don't really have to do anything."

 _Well, that just does not sound good at all,_  Claudia mused, blowing a lock of red hair out of her face. She was sincerely hoping that H.G. would be prepared for whatever Paracelsus was plotting.

"Well, that sounds easy enough," she replied breezily, "nothing for me to screw up, right?" Claudia forced out a tight chuckle and Paracelsus hummed an affirmative response. She really wanted to get more information out of him before H.G. got back.

"What's the big experiment, anyway?" Claudia attempted to sound casual. He looked over at her, annoyance written clearly on his face, and sighed.

"I believe I have figured out a way to grant immortality with significantly less collateral damage," he drawled, "One life, actually. Just one soul needs to be sacrificed in order for another to be everlasting." He was gaining steam and Claudia wanted to keep him talking.

"Wow, that's incredible. Really, truly amazing, but why?" She questioned earnestly, "Why would you want to make anyone else immortal? Don't you want to be the only one?"

"Clauda, I'm afraid you haven't quite grasped my intentions here," the older man sighed once again.

"No?"

"No. You seem to believe me to be a power-hungry lunatic," he stated bluntly.

"But, you're not?" Claudia led.

"I should think not," Paracelsus scoffed, "Imagine if the best minds in the world never aged. If they never grew senile, started forgetting simple things. If they never left our world. Think of all that could be accomplished if these minds had decades and- and centuries of uninterrupted time. What could we do?" Claudia quirked her eyebrows up at that. She found herself becoming genuinely interested.

"But how do you decide who to sacrifice?" She questioned, "How can it be up to you who dies and who lives forever?"

"Progress requires tough decisions," he cocked his head to the side, "And, tell me, are there no criminals in your time? Are there no unredeemable people that offer nothing to this world?"

"I'm not really a believer in capital punishment," Claudia shrugged as much as the ropes around her would allow.

"Yes, well, not everyone has the vision required for this type of work," Paracelsus told her, "And that is precisely why I am standing here and you are tied to a chair."

"Hah hah," Claudia laughed wryly, "you're a funny guy, Parry,  _really_  hilarious. Okay, so now I get the  _why_  of all this, but fill me in on the  _how_. Last time I checked, it took you hundreds of innocent lives to make it so you'll never need Botox. What's changed?" Paracelsus shot her a miffed glance, but answered anyway.

"Are you a religious woman, Claudia?"

"It's not really my scene, no," she replied, shaking her head.

"Surely you've heard of Jesus Christ, though, correct?" Claudia nodded and Paracelsus continued, "And you are aware of his crucifixion?"

"Uh, yeah," she said with a smirk, "Kind of hard to miss that one."

"I believe that if I exsanguinate just one person with a nail from the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ, that person's blood, when used with the Philosopher's Stone, will be strong enough to grant immortal life to another," he explained, eyes lighting with excitement.

"And, let me guess," Claudia asked, beginning to blanch, "we happen to have a crucifixion nail in the Warehouse?"

"We certainly do," Paracelsus grinned, "And if you'll excuse me, I am about to go retrieve it."

/

Helena was painfully aware of five sets of anxious eyes following her every move as she laid down her spoon. She glanced up at her audience, pushed the now empty bowl away and smiled.

"Thank you all very much for indulging me," she told them, "It's been over twenty-four hours since I've last eaten and I was beginning to feel a bit peckish."

"Hey, if anyone knows about needing food, it's me," Pete replied around a bite of dinner roll, "but couldn't you talk and eat at the same time?"

"Though that is a lovely habit of yours, Peter, it is, unfortunately, not one which we share," H.G. smirked at the man to her left. Pete simply shrugged and ripped off another hunk of roll.

"Yes, and while this is all riveting," Artie added sarcastically, "could we please focus less on Pete's dietary habits and more on Helena's big plan? If it's not too much trouble?"

"Right you are, Artie," H.G. nodded, smiling widely. She was, all things considered, feeling quite wonderful at the moment. Not only did she finally have a hot meal in her belly, she also, more importantly, knew how she could save both Claudia and Myka.

Before the plan had come together in her head, Helena would have sworn she could feel every organ twisting and turning within her body. Now, for the first time since Mrs. Frederick's phone call, she felt like her lungs would allow her to take full, deep breaths.

Hers wasn't a perfect plan; there was actually quite a bit of room for error, but she felt it was their best, and maybe only, chance at saving Myka. For that, H.G. was willing to take some risks.

"Let's begin with Paracelsus' plan, actually," Mr. Kosan added, "I want to make sure I have all the information available before I give Ms. Wells the go-ahead on anything. "

"Of course," she replied, pausing, "Paracelsus is actually quite an interesting man. He has an enviable mind and a certain charm about him. He is somewhat obsessed with the abstract idea of progress and innovation. I hate to admit it, but I found myself agreeing with him in some regards. Though, where I have learned from past  _transgressions_ , he is extremely reckless. I believe he is willing to do whatever it takes to see his experiments through to fruition."

"Yeah, yeah," Pete chimed in, "we know all this. Evil genius, heart's not quite in the right place, but is convinced he's doing the world a favor. You know, I didn't think about it before, but he does kind of remind me of a certain British femme fatale who, ahem, tried to end civilization one time."

"Yes, thank you, Peter," H.G. drawled, rolling her eyes, "I'm well aware of the parallels, tenuous though they may be." Pete nodded and half-bowed with a little flourish.

"Anyway," she continued, "Paracelsus wants to collect the best and brightest minds of this time and present them with an eternity to solve our world's problems. He believes he can now grant immortality to a person while sacrificing only one other life. For this experiment, he plans to slaughter someone with a nail used in Jesus Christ's crucifixion. He will then incorporate that person's blood into the immortalization process he has already perfected using the Philosopher's Stone."

"Jesus' crucifixion nail," Artie breathed reverently, "but, but the downside of using that… why would he risk that?"

"Well, since he doesn't plan on dying  _ever_ , I don't suppose he sees it as a threat. He is rather arrogant," Helena retorted. Pete raised his hand with a slight wave.

"Uh, guys," he began, "what  _is_  the downside?"

"The nail was lost for centuries- Paracelsus would have never had access to it during his original time- so, accounts are sketchy, at best. It's said that it possesses great power. No one really knows for sure, but there are rumors that it can be used to bring people back from the dead," Artie explained.

"That's awesome!" Pete exclaimed excitedly, "So, like zombies?" Artie shot Pete a dirty look.

"That part is unclear, Agent Lattimer," Mrs. Frederick added, "but supposedly anyone who uses the nail will be destined for never-ending Hellish torture when they die. I, for one, am not willing to take the risk."

"That part is decidedly less awesome," Pete concluded. Mrs. Frederick raised an eyebrow and gave a placating nod.

"I can only assume that Paracelsus means to sacrifice Claudia with the nail and will then attempt to bestow immortality upon me," H.G. sighed, running a hand through her silken hair, "There's no way to be sure of that, but he did seem to take an interest in me while Claudia was explaining my history. Perhaps he felt a kinship towards me because we have both been bronzed." Mr. Kosan nodded thoughtfully.

"Thank you for that information, Ms. Wells," he told her, "Now, tell me, what have you been plotting?"

"Mr. Kosan, I believe I have a way to not only gain the upper hand on Paracelsus, but to also completely cure Agent Bering of her cancer," Helena broke into a wide smile.

"Yes! I knew it!" Pete pointed at her, beaming, "H.G. for the win!"

"Agent Lattimer," Mrs. Frederick scolded gently, "can we please hear what she plans to do before we applaud her?"

"Right, sorry, continue," Pete gestured at Helena. She nodded and reached into an inner jacket pocket.

"This should look familiar, I think," she told them as she placed a large knife on the table in front of her.

"Typhoid Mary's butcher knife," Mrs. Frederick stated quietly.

"Helena," Artie breathed, "you can't."

"I can, Arthur, and I will," she replied, eyes downcast and hand playing with the locket around her neck, "Believe me, I am not attempting to play the martyr here. I intend to simply act as a conductor. I will take Myka's cancer and then transfer it to Paracelsus. He should be momentarily caught off guard, and that is when I will inject your solution into him, bronze him and be done with this whole mess."

"H.G.," Artie huffed, "I cannot even begin to count the number of ways that plan could go wrong."

"Oh, but I'm sure you'll try," H.G. looked up at him. Artie narrowed his eyes before continuing.

"First of all, Myka is still healing from surgery. If you use the knife, you would receive all those wounds, too. How do you expect to explain them to Paracelsus, let alone stand up and walk into the Warehouse?"

"I'll simply tell him I sustained an injury while collecting the wood," she shrugged.

"And if you aren't able to coerce Paracelsus into grabbing the knife? Then you will still have cancer and you'll be at a huge disadvantage to try and implement a backup plan," Mr. Kosan added.

"Yes, I suppose I should try very hard not to fail at that," H.G. agreed, fiddling with her locket again.

"Helena," Artie's voice held an edge of warning.

"Arthur," she interrupted firmly, "I'm very aware of the risks. Believe me when I tell you that this is the plan. This is the  _only_  plan I will participate in. If any of you are able to enter the Warehouse, please, feel free."

H.G.'s bowl and spoon rattled loudly as Artie slammed his fist down on the table.

"Helena," he roared, "This is absurd! I will  _not_  allow you to sacrifice yourself for Myka! Not again!"

"All due respect to you, Arthur, but this is not your decision," Helena stated tightly.

"And what about me? Do I get a say in this?"

Everyone at the table turned toward the voice calling from the doorway. Dr. Vanessa and Jane stood behind an exhausted looking Myka. Despite her obviously drained state, her eyes were wide as she leaned against one of the wheelchair armrests.

"Myka," H.G. stood up quickly, "how long have you been here?"

"Long enough, Helena," she replied warily, "Now, Artie, tell me exactly what you mean when you say  _again_?"


	10. Chapter ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was going to be a very short chapter, but then it became chock full of feels. Personal sidebar, I broke my finger this week, so updates might be coming a little slower for a while. Thanks, as always, for reading.

**Chapter ten**

"Myka!" Pete bounded up to her with the enthusiasm of a puppy, but stopped about a foot from her wheelchair. "Can- can I hug you?"

Myka blinked twice as Pete flooded her field of vision before softening.

"Of course you can, Pete," she told him, shifting her weight. She wasn't actually surprised by how gently he grasped her, but was moved by his tenderness nonetheless. She closed her eyes briefly at the contact, and opened them to find H.G. staring at her.

Pete pulled away, kissing Myka on the forehead.

"It's really good to see you," he told her thickly.

Myka tore her gaze from Helena and smiled sadly.

"It's good to see you, too. All of you," she looked to the others in the room, "but I still want to know what Artie was talking about."

"First things first, Myka," Vanessa said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "Your bed should be just about ready. As your doctor, I have to insist you lay down."

Myka gave Artie her best glare, but nodded and allowed herself to be wheeled toward the study where her hospital bed was being set up.

The rather large group hovered awkwardly around the doorway as two young men in matching polo shirts worked wordlessly. One finished making Myka's bed (hospital corners, of course), while the other packed away tools and additional supplies.

Myka couldn't help but notice that as the team had moved down the hallway, Helena had worked her way through the crowd and ended up standing right next to Myka's wheelchair. The other woman said nothing and kept her eyes downcast. Myka regarded her posture - one hand rubbing the locket around her neck, while the other arm hugged her midsection - and sighed.

Nothing could be simple when it came to H.G. Wells, she supposed. The last time she had seen the woman, she was playing house and living a  _normal life_  in Wisconsin. Now, here she was - back...for the time being. Back with those lingering looks that Myka had tried so desperately to forget. Back with the uncanny ability to make Myka blush without a single word. Back - and apparently insistent upon risking her life to cure Myka's cancer. It was all just too much to process at the moment.

"So, who are these guys?" Pete stage-whispered to his mom after a few moments.

"When it was decided that Myka would come back to the B&B, the regents made some calls," Mrs. Lattimer responded, "We were able to contact a local medical supply company and they sent an installation team."

"They arrived a little while before you did, actually," Abigail added.

Both men quickly finished their tasks, aware of the audience that had gathered. Abigail stepped forward as they approached the door.

"Thank you so much," she said warmly, shaking both their hands.

"Not a problem, ma'am" the shorter man replied, "You all take care."

The workers nodded their goodbyes to the rest of the group and briskly made their way out of the building. As soon as they were gone, Vanessa wheeled Myka toward the bed. Pete and Helena flanked her closely on either side, with the rest of the group following.

"Pete, if you wouldn't mind?" The doctor gestured to Myka and began turning down the bed. Nodding, Pete stepped in front of the wheelchair.

"Ready, milady?" he asked softly.

"Whisk me away, kind sir," Myka smiled at him. Pete gently slid his hands under Myka and carefully transferred her to the bed. He pulled up the covers as Myka tucked her feet beneath them.

"Thanks, partner," Myka grimaced as she attempted to shift her position. A sharp gasp of pain escaped her lips as her body protested the motion.

"You okay, Mykes?" Pete asked, his hands hovering over the blanket, ready to fix whatever he could. Myka noticed that Helena had taken a few quick steps closer to the bed.

"Yeah," she breathed, "Yeah, I think so." Dr. Calder swiftly moved the blanket and adjusted Myka's robe and gown to get a look at her incision.

"Please be careful, Myka," Vanessa told her after a moment, "this looks alright, but you could've pulled your stitches."

"Right," she agreed, frowning, "sorry. I'm fine." She said the last part to the room at large.

"Now, Artie," Myka continued after Vanessa had adjusted her bedding, "can you please explain what you were talking about? When exactly did Helena sacrifice herself for me? Because, I feel like that's something I would remember. Unless, maybe, it only happened on a day that was later erased." Myka stared pointedly at Artie, who looked quite uncomfortable.

"Uh, Myka," he began, stepping forward, "shouldn't you rest for a little while?"

"I'm resting now," she countered.

"Arthur, you may as well tell her," Mrs. Frederick interceded, sitting down on the couch, "She has a right to know the whole story. They all do." Artie inhaled deeply and took a few more steps closer to Myka's bed.

"You already know most of it," he explained warily, "the Warehouse was destroyed, the whole world was in chaos and both Mrs. Frederick and H.G. were dead." Myka nodded and was joined by Pete, who came to sit at the foot of her bed, his hand reassuringly resting on her leg.

"Yup, bad day," he agreed. Myka's attention wavered for a moment as Helena turned away to gaze out the window. She wished she could just hop out of bed and do something, anything, to remind the other woman that she wasn't alone. She imagined it wasn't easy to hear about your own death.

"When Sykes' bomb went off in the Warehouse, we were all trapped in there with it. You, me, Pete and H.G. We tried so hard, but we couldn't figure out how to diffuse it- we were seconds away from death- when all of a sudden the three of us," Artie nodded at Myka and Pete on the bed, "were encased in an energy dome." The older man paused, pursing his lips.

"Helena was on the other side," he continued, frowning, "She had figured out a way to divert some of the Warehouse's force field. To protect us. She, uh, she said it had to be initiated from the outside, though." Artie looked down then, shaking his head lightly.

"Then, the bomb went off. And everything was fire. And H.G., she was... gone," he finished, lifting his gaze back up, "She saved us."

Myka blinked several times, her mouth was open but she didn't know what to say.

"H.G.," Pete said thickly as he stood up and walked over to her, "I, uh- Thank you." He awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not sure you can thank me for something I have no memory of, Peter, but you are very welcome," she replied without turning around. He nodded, squeezed her arm and walked back to Myka's bed.

"But Artie," Myka began, rubbing at the back of her neck, "I still don't understand what you said before. H.G. saved us... but she didn't sacrifice herself just for me." As soon as she said it, Myka noticed that just about everyone else in the room found something fascinating to look at. The only person who continued to gaze at the unfolding scene was Abigail.

"Myka," Artie said quietly, sadly, "you weren't there. You didn't see. What Helena did… It was because of you. For you." He had trailed off to a whisper. Myka turned to look at H.G., but her back was still turned.

"But-" Myka began before choking on her words. She had no idea what to say. How could Artie know that? Nothing was making any sense. She blinked and shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts.

"But," she tried again, "why didn't you tell us? After you got better... When things had calmed down a little?"

"I'm sorry, Myka," his tone was almost pleading and he held his hands out toward her, "but it's not a day I like to remember. I didn't think it would- I'm sorry." Myka nodded her head blankly.

"I think it would be best if we left Myka to get some rest," Mrs. Frederick said in a tone that made it quite clear that she wasn't making a suggestion. She stood and nodded at Myka as she left the study. Artie followed her, eyes still apologizing.

Vanessa was the next to react, moving to the bed and squeezing her patient's hand.

"We'll just be in the other room. The techs set up a buzzer for you- don't be shy if you need anything."

"Yes, Myka, please let me put my mothering skills to use," Jane added sincerely. She offered them a weak smile as they left. Abigail meandered up to her.

"I could bring you food? Or a drink?" She sounded unsure of her place, not at all like how Leena would've been.

"Thanks," Myka replied, the politeness automatic, "I'm ok for now." Abigail nodded awkwardly.

"Or if you want to talk..." She trailed off, but some confidene had snuck back into her voice.

"Maybe later," she replied. Abigail nodded once more and left.

"Mykes, you want me to stay?" Pete asked, looking from his partner to Helena, who hadn't moved from her position at the window. Myka exhaled deeply, shaking her head.

"I'm ok," she told him. He squeezed her hand.

"Really?" Pete checked one last time. She merely smiled at him in response.

"Ok, ok, girl talk. I get it," he said. She couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Thanks, Pete," Myka tried her best to convey just how deeply her gratitude ran, but wasn't sure she would ever be able to express it completely. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and Myka could tell he was trying hard to keep things light. He squeezed her hand once more and left the room without another word.

Myka focused her gaze on the back of the only other person left in the room. She heard the gentle click of the door signaling Pete's departure.

"Shall I leave too, darling?" Helena asked quietly without turning around.

"Did you know?" Myka asked. Helena sighed before answering.

"No- not precisely. I knew right away that Artie traveled through time, that much was absolutely clear. I found out that I had not survived in the original timeline and that I had died saving you all. Beyond that, the details, I didn't  _know_ ," Helena finally glanced over her shoulder, her eyes sad, "I did have a feeling, though."

"A feeling?" She pushed the other woman to keep talking.

"Yes," H.G. sighed again, looking back toward the window, "and it turns out my assumptions were fairly accurate."

Myka stared at Helena's back, her mind racing. She didn't know what to say- actually, she wasn't even sure what to feel. H.G. Wells had died for her. And now she was trying to (maybe) do it again.

"Are you satisfied now?" Helena's accented voice held an edge that worried Myka, "Agent Jinks will be returning soon and we must prepare for the transfer."

"No, Helena, I'm not  _satisfied_ ," Myka spat, "You dying doesn't  _satisfy_  me."

"Myka," H.G.'s voice sounded shaky and far away.

"Helena," she interrupted, her voice raising, "why do you want to die? Look me in the eye and make me understand."

"I don't want to die!" H.G. spun around. Myka was taken aback by the unshed tears gleaming in her eyes.

"You don't?" She asked, a little more gently now, "Well then, why? If you don't survive this, Artie can't go back and fix it again."

"Myka, please," Helena's voice was broken and she took a step backwards.

"Helena, there are people who really care about you.  _I_  really care about you. And, it scares me that you're so reckless."

"It scares you?" H.G. sounded incredulous. She wiped haphazardly at a tear that had slipped down her cheek.

"Yes!" Myka was almost yelling now, offended and hurt by her friend's reaction.

"Well, Myka... you terrify me." It was just louder than a whisper.

"What?" She shrank back into her pillow.

"You scare the bloody life out of me." Myka was struck by how defeated the normally confident woman sounded.

"The power you have over me... It's all too much, Myka," she sounded as sad as Myka had ever heard her.

"I don't- I don't understand," Myka shook her head.

"I  _died_  for you. You can imagine it was a bit of a shock figuring that out, but then... Then, it wasn't really a shock at all, was it? Because if there is one thing I am sure of in this world, it is that I would do absolutely anything for you, Myka. And it scares me, it shakes me down to my very core." Helena was crying in earnest now, but Myka couldn't respond. She could only look on with wide eyes that were beginning to feel suspiciously wet.

"And so I had to leave, you see," Helena continued, finally stepping closer, "I had to pretend to myself that I could live a simple life. A life where my every thought wasn't consumed by the most enchanting person I have ever met. It didn't work, of course, but I felt it was necessary. To protect you. From the moment you thrust your gun in my hand at Yellowstone, that is all I have ever wanted to do. But, somehow, danger and sorrow seem to live within my shadow and so I couldn't be here with you, I just couldn't. So I stayed away, though it tore me apart. But, the thing is, living in a world with no Myka Bering is... unthinkable. So please,  _please_ , let me do this. I have to." She was sobbing and pleading now, completely undone. She was close, just a few paces from the edge of the bed, but she had doubled over herself and slumped to the floor.

"Helena," Myka whispered reverently, tears streaming down her face, "I-"

"Jinksy is on his way," Pete called as he opened the door abruptly, "Oh! Uh- sorry." He stood there, awkwardly holding the door knob as he took in the scene.

"It's fine," H.G. choked, pushing herself up from the floor, "Excuse me, won't you?" She darted out of the room, eyes trained on the floor.

"Mykes," Pete began softly, walking toward her, "What happened? Are you ok?"

Myka could only shake her head vigorously as she tried to ignore the pain in her midsection and hold back the sobs that were threatening to rip her apart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay! We're getting close to the big climactic action, so I'll try to post a bit more regularly from here on in. Thanks again for reading and a special thanks to everyone that has commented. I really enjoy hearing what you all think.

**Chapter eleven**

Helena sat perched on the edge of the tub, trying to calm herself down. Though it had happened just a minute ago, she could hardly believe she had lost control so spectacularly. She was now attempting to take a deep breath, but it kept catching in her throat before filling her lungs. The result was ugly and pathetic; she felt like a child after a temper tantrum.

After several more attempts she was finally able to catch her breath, though it still came in shaky half-sobs. She wiped angrily at her eyes, frustrated that she was seemingly unable to control her own body, and stepped over to the sink.

Seeing her reflection in the bathroom mirror almost set her off on another crying jag; she looked absolutely horrible. She had trouble recognizing her own eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot as they were.

Helena sighed. She felt hollow, emotionally and physically. The lack of sleep she had gotten during Myka’s bedside vigil the night before was clearly catching up with her. Actually, if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t been sleeping well for months. Not since Myka and Pete had come to Wisconsin and reminded her of the endless wonder she had left behind.

 _Oh, Myka,_  she thought, absently registering pleasure that she could finally inhale deeply without incident. The woman was clearly her Achilles’ heel. Helena George Wells certainly did not normally cry over women. She  _especially_  did not cry over women with whom she was not romantically involved.

Though, she had to begrudgingly admit, her and Myka’s accord did always tend to defy labels. In many ways, probably  _all_  the important ways, what she had with Myka was the most raw and romantic relationship of her life. It was all tragically unspoken and unconsummated, of course, but real nonetheless.

She supposed she could shoulder just as much of the blame as Myka for that particular fact. Where the younger woman had always been cautious and somewhat defensive, she had been a shameless flirt. It had been so much easier to be cavalier with her feelings than to truly acknowledge and understand the depths of them.

And now here she was, the sodding  _Father of Science Fiction_ , a red-faced mess of a woman hiding in a bathroom. She had all but confessed her love back there and, now that she had calmed down, was feeling thoroughly embarrassed. She had a fleeting hope that perhaps Myka hadn’t read  _too_  deeply into what she had said.

Of course,  _what she had said_  had actually been brutally honest. She had little desire to continue living in this world if Myka was gone. To that end, Helena had no doubt in her mind that she would be implementing Mary Mallon’s butcher knife today. And while she certainly hoped the other woman would now agree easily to her plan, she knew Myka’s stubborn streak all too well to expect it.

/

Myka’s face was red. Too red. Pete was getting increasingly anxious that his partner might pass out or pull her stitches or do something equally bad that he had no idea how to fix.

“Mykes, I’m gonna get Dr. Vanessa, okay?”

“No,” she sort of coughed, her eyes wide, “please, I don’t want anyone else to come in.”

“Alright, well,” he slid onto the bed, grabbing her hand, “in that case, you really have to keep breathing.” She nodded and squeezed his hand, trying to catch her breath.

Pete stared at her while her eyes were downcast. Whatever happened between Myka and H.G. in his absence had been… intense.  _Well,_  he thought,  _most things between those two seemed to be intense, but this had to be a new high._  Maybe he should’ve stuck around- or, at least, listened at the door. He had no idea what to do or say to help the woman and it was terrible. He would usually try for a joke to lighten the mood, but she seemed beyond that.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Pete asked as gingerly as he could. Myka just sort of shrugged and hiccupped.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled between sniffles.

“Oh, come on,” he tried to shoot her a grin, “there are very few things that you don’t know. Which, come to think of it, is a fact you usually love to remind me of.”

“Pete,” she began half-heartedly.

“Alright, alright,” he quickly surrendered, “I was kidding. You know you don’t have to tell me anything, Mykes. We can sit here and not talk, if that’s what you want. Just try to calm down, okay?” She nodded and wiped her eyes.

“There’s just a lot going on,” she told him quietly after a few moments. Pete simply nodded, hoping she would elaborate.

“I- I’m worried about Claudia,” Myka continued, not meeting Pete’s eyes, “we don’t even know how she’s doing in there.” Pete frowned; that hadn’t been the response he was expecting.

“Well, yeah, that’s true,” he countered, “but I think it’s pretty safe to assume Paracelsus isn’t going to do anything to her until H.G. gets back.” At the mention of the other woman’s name, Myka’s eyes squeezed shut tightly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Myka,” Pete said in the softest voice he possibly could, “what did you and she talk about?”

In response, Myka simply bit her lip and shook her head slightly. Pete inched closer.

“I’m really not trying to push you,” he told her, “but, Mykes, come on. I can’t stand to see you like this. Since the moment you told me you had cancer, I’ve felt nothing but useless. And you- you’re my best friend and I love you  _so much_ , but I haven’t been able to  _do_  anything. So, can you let me do something? Can you just tell me that I need to go find H.G. and- and bring her back here? Or tell me to punch her? Or- I don’t know, Mykes, I need some help from your end. All I know is you’re sick- you’re  _dying_ \- and she wants to save you. Can’t you please let her save you?” Pete was fighting back tears, his voice catching by the end of his impromptu monologue.

“And how am I supposed to do that, Pete?” Myka asked, her voice wavering, “How can I let her just take this disease and put it into her body? Knowing how many ways things could go wrong, how could I do that? It’s basically a suicide mission.” Pete shifted on the bed so he could bend over and hug his crying partner tightly.

“It’s dangerous, sure,” he whispered, “but, suicide? No way.” He pulled away so he could maintain eye contact while he spoke to her.

“H.G. Wells is, like, the most capable woman I’ve ever met- besides you and Claud, of course. When she puts her mind to something, I would be willing to bet my life savings that she’s gonna succeed at it. And then, if we throw  _you_  into the equation? It’s a done deal.” Myka shook her head and opened her mouth to argue, but Pete cut her off.

“Nope, don’t even try to deny that. You know I’m right,” he paused, taking a deep breath. The next thing he was going to say was a gamble. He thought his partner needed to hear it, but he had no idea how she would react.

“Myka, you love her, don’t you? You’re in love with H.G.?” Her lip quivered almost imperceptibly as she closed her eyes tightly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, “I just brought it up because, well- I don’t know what I’m trying to say, exactly. Just that you and me? We’re partners and we’re close and- and I would do anything for you, Mykes. If I could be the one to take your cancer, I would do it, too. I’d do it in a heartbeat. But you and H.G? It’s different, you know? And I used to be, I don’t know, kind of jealous of her, I guess. I’m over it now, but, the point is, you guys have this sort of untouchable  _thing_. So, I think if you asked her, if you told her to come back safely, she would do it. There would be nothing that could stand in her way of coming back. For you." Pete anxiously waited for any kind of reaction from Myka, but she simply laid there with her eyes closed, a few tears following well laid tracks down her cheeks.

"I asked her to come back once," she whispered finally, "and she didn't." Pete frowned; he wasn't sure how to respond to that. Sure, H.G. had royally fucked that situation up, but she was here now. Wasn't that what mattered?

"Pete," Myka sighed before he could figure out what to say, "I just need to be alone for a little while. Is that okay? I need to, I need to think."

"Okay, Mykes," he said simply, squeezing her hand with finality as he stood up, "but humor me and let me give you one piece of advice?"

Myka raised an eyebrow in response.

"Don't  _think_  so much. I know things were messy sometimes, but your instincts have always been right on about Helena. You should trust them."

Myka's face tightened and Pete could tell that she was trying to keep her emotions under control.

"Thanks, Pete," Myka managed after a few moments. He nodded and walked to the door.

"Jinksy should be here in about 20 minutes. I'll do my best to keep everyone away for at least 10 or 15." If possible, Pete's heart broke even more at the sight of Myka looking so small and broken and on the bed.

/

"Thank you, Abigail," Mrs. Frederick smiled tightly as the other woman placed a cup of tea in front of her.

"Of course, Irene. Mr. Kosan, Artie, you're sure you don't want anything?" She questioned the two men at the table.

"No, thank you, Ms. Cho," Mr. Kosan said warmly. Artie merely waved his arms which, she supposed, meant he didn't want anything either.

Abigail hovered awkwardly for a moment, nodding, unsure of her place.

"Please," Mrs. Frederick said suddenly, "join us." Abigail shot her a grateful smile before pulling out a chair and sitting down with her own mug.

"Now," Mr. Kosan began, his tone all business, "what should we do about this Wells situation? It does seem like an unnecessarily risky plan."

"It certainly does" Artie chimed in.

"However," he continued, looking to Artie, "I have to say that I'm inclined to allow her to go through with it."

"Mr. Kosan," Artie sputtered, "I don't understand. We absolutely cannot risk that- not only does it put Helena in danger, but it could very well leave Claudia hanging out to dry."

"Not if she succeeds, Arthur," Mrs. Frederick replied.

" _If,_  Mrs. Frederick, a  _big if,_ " Artie was already starting to get worked up, "An if that I don't believe is worth the risk."

"Agent Nielsen, correct me if I'm wrong, but Ms. Wells does not seem to me to be a person who takes no for an answer easily. Is she?" Mr. Kosan asked.

"Well, no," Artie agreed, "but that doesn't mean we should allow her to act on her every whim!"

"Thats true, but I find myself believing that she will have more success with a plan she is 100% committed to, even if it is more risky," the soft-spoken man continued, "She seems rather determined to help Agent Bering."

"Exactly!" Artie pointed at him, "Her emotions are clouding her decision-making skills! It's up to us to stop her from doing something stupid."

"Arthur," Mrs. Frederick began.

"Irene," he interrupted her, "she is  _my_  responsibility! And when I think back to the way I've treated her in the past... She's a good woman. I wish I had realized it sooner, but I know it now. And I won't let her die again." The table was silent for a few moments.

Abigail looked around the table at three faces lost in thought, wishing she knew the right answer. On one hand, this seemed like a perfect plan- they could save Myka and defeat Paracelsus in one fell swoop. On the other hand, if things went bad, they would go disastrously bad. All the pressure would be placed on the shoulders of a woman she barely knew.

"Artie," Abigail surprised herself by speaking up, "do you trust her?" She maintained calm eye contact as Artie opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.

"Do I? Trust... Yes, but-"

"No," she said quickly, holding up a hand, "no buts, no explanations, no qualifications. Do you trust H.G. to carry out her plan to the best of her abilities? To help Myka? To protect Claudia?"

Artie's bushy eyebrows quirked up and down as he attempted to answer her question. Finally, his face softened.

"Yeah," he said simply, "I do."

"Well, then," Mr. Kosan nodded, "I think we have our answer. As long as Agent Bering consents to this plan, we will dedicate all of our resources to helping Ms. Wells. Excuse me, I need to make a few calls." With that, he pushed his chair away from the table and swiftly exited the room.

"I'll go see if I have anything that might help Helena," Artie sighed resignedly, following Kosan out.

Abigail grinned, pleased that she had helped facilitate a decision. Her smile slipped away, however, when she noticed Irene Frederick staring at her in a way that was not entirely comforting.

"What?" She asked nervously. Mrs. Frederick lifted an eyebrow.

"Well done, Ms. Cho," she said enigmatically.

"Um, thank you?"

"How did you know what to say to Arthur?" Mrs. Frederick asked before taking a sip of her tea.

"Well, I just thought that the crux of the problem really came down to H.G. Wells and whether or not she was capable of carrying out the plan. But then I thought about the fact I don't actually know her, so I couldn't make that decision," Abigail explained.

"So you simply tried to steer Arthur to the heart of the situation?”

“Right,” she agreed.

“Very well done,” she repeated, “Thank you for your assistance. I believe this is the right decision."

"You're not nervous about it?"

"Make no mistake, I am always nervous when one of my agents' lives is in danger. And, yes, I do still consider Ms. Wells to be one of my agents. However, I disagree with Arthur on an important point," she confided.

"What's that?" Abigail questioned, leaning closer.

"I believe Helena's emotions will be an asset, not a deterrence," Mrs. Frederick sipped her tea with an almost impish grin.

"What's the story between them anyway?" Abigail wondered. "Did they date?" Mrs. Frederick pursed her lips.

"Their relationship is what you young people today might call," she paused, " _complicated_."

"Ah," Abigail nodded, "say no more."

The two women drank their tea in comfortable silence, knowing that things were about to get very hectic.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’ve abandoned poor Claudia in the Warehouse for the past few chapters (and we will be getting back to her shortly), but, you guys, I just CAN’T STOP writing Bering & Wells feels.
> 
> On a more personal note, I just wanted to thank everyone again for your response to this story. When I started this, I hadn’t really written anything in quite a while. This story has gotten me writing again (original fiction, too!), which is so awesome. This fandom… gosh, it is just too much. And I also want to add right now that if Myka and Pete get together in season 5, I am absolutely going to lose my shit. Ok, now that that’s out of the way… here’s the chapter.

**Chapter twelve**  

"Hello," Myka's body jolted at she turned her attention from the window to see Mrs. Frederick standing by her bedside, "how are you feeling?"

"Mrs. Frederick," Myka exhaled, "you startled me." The mysterious woman merely smiled in response.

"I'm feeling alright, I guess," she continued, "kind of overwhelmed." Myka smiled apologetically at her own honesty.

"That's perfectly natural, Myka," she responded soothingly, "the past 48 hours have been quite a whirlwind- for you especially." Myka nodded, running a hand through her limp, bed-head-ridden curls.

"Everything is just happening really quickly," Myka sighed, "Steve's almost back, isn't he?"

"Yes," Mrs. Frederick pursed her lips, "I'm afraid I'm here because it is time to make your decision."

Myka frowned, but nodded her head resolutely.

"Okay," she said simply, "Helena can do it."

Mrs. Frederick raised an eyebrow.

"Okay? That's it? I expected-" she paused, tilting her head, "Well, I'm not sure exactly what I expected, but it certainly wasn't that. Agent Bering, are you sure?"

Myka blew out an exaggerated breath and looked down at her lap, bringing a hand up to rub the back of her neck.

"Mrs. Frederick," she began, not looking up, "have you ever been to Las Vegas?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on the older woman's lips as she pulled a chair up to Myka's bedside and sat down.

"Years ago," she said, adjusting her skirt. Myka nodded to herself.

"I went when I was 22- my senior year of college. Some girls I knew were road-tripping down and, for some crazy reason, I tagged along," Myka stared into her lap, lost in her memories, "Anyway, we spent ten or twelve hours in my friend Beth's tiny Honda Civic- I think the air conditioner was broken, too- and we got to Las Vegas at, like, 2am on a Saturday morning. And we didn't have anywhere to stay, of course, so Beth says we should just start gambling and maybe the casino will comp a room for us." Myka looked at Mrs. Frederick then, a sad smile on her lips.

"And I was kind of excited, you know? I figured it would be all solving puzzles and using statistics. I hadn't really thought about the fact that winning really boils down to blind luck. I lost a lot of money that weekend and I had a miserable time, for a lot of reasons. But anyway, I'm rambling." Myka flashed a crooked smile.  

"The point is- I don't really gamble, since then. Sure, I have to take risks sometimes, for the job, but I pride myself on basing all my decisions on reason and- and logic and fact. Except, of course, when it comes to Helena." Myka's expression was unreadable as she shook her head, rubbing again at the back of her neck.

"Now here I am, basically going  _all in_. I'm not entirely sure why and if I think about it too much I know I'll panic or shut down. But, uh, yeah," she looked up at Mrs. Frederick and gave a little shrug, "I'm sure."

Irene Frederick sighed deeply, nodding.

"For what it's worth, I think this is the right choice," she offered.

"Well, you can tell Pete this is all his fault," the hint of a whimsical smile pulled at Myka's lips.

"Is it?"

"Something he said..." Myka trailed off, "he just got me thinking about things differently."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that," Mrs. Frederick responded with a chuckle.

"Oh, I have no doubt," Myka agreed.

"You'll have to excuse me," Mrs. Frederick patted Myka's hand and stood up, "I should go tell Dr. Calder to begin preparations."

"Of course," Myka nodded.

"Try to relax, Agent Bering," the older woman offered.

Myka simply smiled in response and settled back against her stack of pillows.

/

Pete stood quietly, simultaneously leaning into and peering around the doorframe of Myka's bedroom. He had been standing there about a minute, maybe more, but had yet to see any movement from the woman currently lying (sleeping?) on his partner's bed.

"You can come in, Peter," H.G. Wells drawled, not bothering to open her eyes, "I am awake." She was on her back, lying atop the blankets, hands clasped loosely over her abdomen.

"Oh," Pete walked sheepishly into the room, "hi."

"Hello," she opened her eyes and turned her head toward him.

"So, uh," Pete began, wanting to cut to the chase, "Mykes made a decision." Helena sat up quickly, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed.

"Did she?" Pete noticed the tension in her shoulders as she reached up to fondle the locket hanging from her neck. He nodded, cracking a smile.

"We're on," Pete told her, "As soon as Jinksy gets back, you guys are going to do the transfer."

"Really?" H.G. breathed, her eyes widening, "You're quite sure?"

"Positive," he replied proudly, his chest puffing out reflexively, "Mrs. Frederick just told me. I didn't really think Myka had even been listening to me, but, apparently, something I said sunk in, so-" Pete was cut off as H.G. flung her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear before she pulled away to keep expressing her gratitude, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, you wonderful man." Stunned, Pete just nodded in response as he attempted to find his voice and thank her in return.

"Peter, I could kiss you right now!" H.G. was practically giddy as she grasped his upper arms, shaking him slightly.

"Woah now, do you think we should be falling back on old habits?" He asked with a grin. Helena tilted her head and rolled her eyes.

"Did we ever kiss, darling? I suppose it slipped my mind. Though, clearly, it left an impression on you," she smirked, "Now, enough dawdling- we must go prepare." She started to walk past him to the door, but Pete grabbed a hold of her forearm.

"Wait," he said, turning around to face her. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"H.G.," he began awkwardly, "just, don't die, okay? You can't."

"I have every intention of surviving, thank you," her tone was short.

"I know, I know, of course you do," he waved his hand dismissively, "I had to say it, though, you know? It would've eaten away at me if I didn't say anything. I know it's obvious, I just had to make sure you knew. Okay? So, don't die."

"Alright, Pete," she replied simply and then jerked her head toward the door, "Now then, shall we?"

/

Myka watched with interest as Dr. Vanessa prepared different tools and bandages. The physician must have sensed her anxiety, because she had taken to narrating her actions for Myka's benefit.

"And this is the local anesthetic-" she began, moving the small bottle to her tray, but was interrupted by the slamming of a door.

"Hello?" Steve called out from the foyer.

"In here!" She replied, smiling. She was happy to see Steve; the man always had a very calming presence.

"Myka," he dropped a bag by the door and strode over to her bed, "how are you?" He leaned over, giving her a solid, but gentle, hug and kiss on the cheek. Myka shrugged.

"Been better," she replied simply. Steve nodded and turned to Vanessa.

"Hey, Dr. Calder," he waved. She smiled up at him from her work.

"Hello Steven, good to see you."

"So, how'd it go?" Myka asked anxiously.

"Fine. Easy, actually," he clarified, "What did I miss around here?" Myka opened her mouth to respond, but heard Artie's voice boom from the hall.

"A lot," he said, picking up the bag, "Is this the wood?"

"Yup," Steve nodded.

"Good, come with me. I'll fill you in," Artie turned and walked away without waiting to see if Agent Jinks was behind him. Steve shrugged apologetically, waved and jogged to catch up with their boss. Myka and Dr. Vanessa shared a look and a smile. She wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask the older woman how things were going between her and Artie. She was spared the decision as Mrs. Frederick, Mr. Kosan and Jane walked into the study.

"How's it going, Vanessa?" Jane questioned as she walked up to Dr. Calder and her instruments.

"Almost all set," she replied, "now I just need to prep H.G."

"Are you ready for this, Myka?" Mrs. Frederick asked quietly. Myka inhaled deeply.

"As I'll ever be," she replied with wide eyes. As Mrs. Frederick squeezed her hand, Myka noticed Helena hovering in the doorway. Pete nudged past her a moment later, beckoning her into the room after him.

"Hey, everyone," Pete looked around the room and walked up to Jane, "Hi, mom." He hugged his mother tightly.

"Hello, Agent Lattimer. Ms. Wells," Kosan greeted, "are you ready for the transfer?"

Helena had been lingering by the door, staring at Myka.

"Ready and willing, sir," she answered without looking away. Myka felt a blush rising in her neck and looked down into her lap.

"Excellent- Dr. Calder, are you prepared?" Mr. Kosan seemed unaware of the looks between the two women.

"Yes. Helena, if you would come over here?" Vanessa asked, rolling her tray closer, "I'm gonna have you get in bed with Myka, okay?" H.G. smirked, lifting an eyebrow.

"With pleasure," she replied, sauntering over. Myka inched over to the edge of the bed and hoped she wasn't turning as red as she felt. As Helena slid next to her, she realized the doctor was pulling down her blanket.

"What are you doing?" She asked, feeling exposed in her flimsy gown.

"I just want to check the exact location of your incision, so I can prep H.G. properly," Vanessa answered as her deft hands swept over Myka's midsection.

"Oh, okay," she squeaked, hyper aware of Helena's presence beside her.

"Great," Dr. Calder said, prodding Myka's stitches gently, "H.G., can you unbutton your shirt please?" Myka’s breath caught in her throat and her belly twisted suddenly.

"You just need to undo a few of the bottom ones," Vanessa clarified.

"Right you are, we have a bit of an audience, don't we?" Helena joked, sounding unusually nervous. Myka finally glanced to her right and found the other woman smiling reassuringly at her. She couldn’t help but smile back before looking away shyly.

"Okay,” Dr. Calder moved around to the other side of the bed, “now, I’m going to give you a local anesthetic.” She picked up a syringe and filled it from a small clear bottle. Helena nodded.

“It won’t numb you completely,” the doctor warned, “but it will help.” She first wiped the area to disinfect it and then held the needle right above Helena’s stomach.

“Ready?” She asked, “This may hurt.”

Without thinking or even looking at the other woman, Myka grasped H.G.’s hand tightly.

“Ready,” she heard Helena reply softly.

Myka didn’t watch as Dr. Vanessa injected Helena- she didn’t have to. She felt the other woman squeeze her hand and heard her gasp softly. Myka shut her eyes and squeezed right back.

“Alright, all done,” Vanessa said gently, wiping Helena’s stomach with gauze once more, “It’s going to take a few minutes for that to kick in. We’ll be back.” The doctor nodded to the rest of the crowd. Myka was somewhat surprised when everyone, including Pete, followed her out without comment.

After the last person left the study, Myka turned her head to regard the other woman. She was struck by the utter intimacy of their situation as she found Helena staring back at her, just inches away. She still held Myka's hand tightly, possessively, and had begun to trace tiny circles with her thumb.

Myka squeezed her eyes shut tightly and exhaled a ragged breath.

"Please," she began, not even knowing what she was asking for.  _Please don't do this?_  Maybe.  _Please come closer?_  Definitely.  _Please stop looking at me with those eyes that cut through all my armor and leave me soft and exposed._

"What, Myka?" Helena whispered and Myka could feel her inching closer, “Tell me.”

“Just,” she sighed, turning her head away, “don’t. I can’t.” Myka’s jaw clenched as she inhaled deeply. She waited for a response from Helena that never came. Instead, the woman merely stilled her thumb and loosened her grip, but didn’t let go of Myka’s hand.

They laid like that for a few quiet, delicate minutes. There were so many things that Myka wanted to say while they had some time alone, but she just didn’t. Instead, she focused on breathing in and out and berated herself for being such a coward.

“Before the others come back,” Helena’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it pierced through the silence of the room, “I wanted to thank you.” Myka finally opened her eyes.

“You wanted to thank  _me_? Are you serious?” She looked at Helena incredulously.

“Yes, darling, thank you. For changing your mind. For allowing me to do this,” the other woman was studying the ceiling.

“Helena,” Myka started, waiting for her to look, “You are absolutely ridiculous. Also, I can still call it off- so don’t thank me yet.” Myka shook her head, a glimmer of mirth gracing her features. She could practically see the tension melt off of Helena as the other woman smirked.

“Tell me,” she said, tightening her hold on Myka’s hand once more, “what did Peter say to get you to change your mind?” Myka’s own laughter took her by surprise, it spilled from her mouth without thought, and Helena was looking at her with questioning eyes.

“He told me that I should stop thinking so much. That my instincts about you were always right and I should trust them,” Myka said, her mouth twisted up in a crooked smile, “After he left, I thought about that and it occurred to me how very full of shit he was.” Hurt flashed across Helena’s face, but Myka squeezed her hand and pressed on.

“I mean, my instincts certainly didn’t clue me in on the fact that you were plotting to end the world, did they?”

“That’s quite enough, Myka,” Helena turned her head and tried to pull her hand away, but Myka held tight.

“Wait, no,” she tugged on the other woman’s hand, “Helena, I’m sorry. I just- It made me laugh, the ridiculousness of it all? Here’s Pete, this guy who used to  _hate_  you, and now he’s seeing you through rose-colored glasses. It made me loosen up a little.” Helena still wasn’t looking, but Myka could tell she was listening.

“Plus, I realized what he was trying to say. He just wanted me to follow my heart,” Myka added simply.

“And did you?” Helena asked turning her head and looking more vulnerable than Myka could ever remember seeing her.

“My heart,” she paused, expelling a melancholy sigh, “trusts you.” Helena turned onto her side and cradled Myka’s hand tenderly within both of her own.

“And I shan’t let you down again, Myka,” her eyes were heartbreakingly hopeful. Myka bit her lip.

“I think you could probably let me down a hundred times and I’d still trust you that 101st time. And, believe me when I say there’s a part of me that hates it.” Myka also hated that she couldn’t stop the honesty from pouring out of her as if some imaginary floodgates had been opened.

“I know I’ve done terrible things,” Helena said, tears pooling in her dark eyes, “If I could spend a century repenting for my sins, it would still not be enough.”

“It’s not about the trident, Helena, I forgave you for that a long time ago. You were so broken. I probably should’ve seen it,” Myka frowned.

“Then what?” Helena asked, shaking her head slightly.

“You left,” Myka said plainly. She opened her mouth to elaborate when the door to the study opened abruptly. H.G. rolled onto her back and let go of Myka’s hand, wiping her eyes as subtly as she could.

Dr. Vanessa walked up to Helena’s side of the bed, and prodded her stomach. If she noticed the tension or H.G.’s red eyes, she certainly didn’t show it. The rest of the group filtered in.

“Can you feel this?” She asked gently. Helena shook her head.

“Not really,” she said quietly. Vanessa nodded and turned to Mr. Kosan.

“Okay,” she told him, slipping on latex gloves, “we’re ready.” Myka finally noticed that Mr. Kosan was holding the butcher knife with gloved hands of his own. She didn’t feel ready at all. Kosan nodded and stepped forward, placing the knife in Myka’s hand. She looked at it for a moment, feeling tears sting at the corners of her eyes. H.G. shifted and reached her hand toward it, but Myka pulled it away.

“Wait- I,” Myka pleaded to Helena’s searching look, “Are you sure?”

“Myka,” H.G. smiled sadly, “ trust me?” Myka stifled a laugh as a tear slipped down her cheeks, nodding.

“Lay back, okay?” She told Helena, “It’s going to hurt.” H.G. did so and then with a final reassuring smile, grabbed the knife.

Myka instinctively squinted her eyes when the knife and both their hands and forearms pulsed with an orange glow. She couldn’t quite place the feeling she was experiencing. It didn’t hurt, exactly, the closest thing she could compare it to was giving blood.

It was over in just a few seconds and Myka felt better than she had in days, weeks perhaps. She let out woosh of air, blinking for a moment, before she heard Helena whimper beside her.

The woman’s eyes were screwed shut in a pained expression. She had abandoned her hold on the knife to cover the wound on her abdomen with both hands. Blood was oozing through her fingers. Dr. Calder was there in an instant, pushing Helena’s hands away and pressing gauze to the incision.

“Helena?” Myka sat up and grabbed Helena’s bloody hand, “Are you okay?” H.G. grit her teeth, nodding. Vanessa was making very quick work of the stitches.

“Bloody hell,” H.G. breathed after a few moments, “Artie, don’t you have a trick in that bag of yours for me? Something to perhaps take this pain away?” Artie shook his head, Myka noticed that everyone had stepped much closer to their bed during the transfer.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Come on, Artie,” Pete added, nervously wringing his hands, “you’re always pulling random shit out of that thing.”

“Respect the bag, Pete,” Artie shot him a look. Myka wiped tears from her face as she watched Dr. Calder finish Helena’s sutures and clean up blood smeared on the other woman’s stomach. How could she have agreed to this?

“How bad is it?” Myka asked.

“Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch,” Helena recited through a clenched jaw.

“Helena…” she warned.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be rid of it soon enough.”

“Artie, please,” Myka turned to him, sniffling, “don’t you have anything that can help her?”

“I wish I did, Myka,” he replied, holding his hands out, “There’s nothing in there for this. I do have some artifacts that could help her with her mission, though, if things start to get dicey. Steve and I stashed them in the bag with the petrified wood. Along with this.” Artie produced a grappling hook gun from the bag.

“But, how?” Myka asked, “I thought it was destroyed in that elevator in Atlanta?”

“It was,” he agreed, “but Claudia copied the design, made another one.” H.G. smiled, pained, but proud, as Dr. Calder finished applying her bandages.

“Thank you, doctor,” she managed, “Now I believe our dear Claudia is waiting for me.” H.G. was about to attempt sitting up, when both Vanessa and Myka placed a hand on either shoulder, pinning her.

“Easy, Ms. Wells,” Vanessa said sternly, “I know you won’t stay here as long as I’d like you to, but I’m ordering you to rest for a few minutes- if only to catch your breath.” Myka merely looked down at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. Helena sighed.

“So be it.” For H.G. Wells, it was an uncharacteristically easy surrender.

“Don’t move,” Dr. Calder warned, stepping away from the bed as she pointed at her patient. Helena mock saluted her from the bed.

Again, the rest of the team followed Vanessa’s lead, one by one exiting the study. Myka shifted on the bed and was surprised to feel Helena’s hand tighten around her own.

“Stay?” She whispered.

“Just getting situated,” Myka maneuvered H.G.’s arm so she could lie with her head on the other woman’s shoulder. Their bodies pressed against one another, Myka could feel Helena’s muscles relax. The other woman sighed and curled her now trapped arm around Myka.

“Pete?” Myka questioned, noticing he had lingered behind. He looked conflicted and hesitated before answering.

“Did it- did it work all the way? You feel okay?”

Myka nodded into H.G.’s embrace.

“I think so,” she told him. He nodded back, looking like he wanted to say more.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he decided on finally, “Mykes, you watch her, okay?” He pointed to Helena with a smile. Myka chuckled.

“Everyone’s so concerned,” Helena rolled her eyes as Pete left, “Though I do have to say, you are very tough, Myka. This is a bit painful.”

“Hush,” Myka told her, as she began to trace patterns along Helena’s ribs, “you’re supposed to be resting.” They were both silent for a few moments.

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” Myka sighed, “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“It was the truth, was it not?” H.G. asked quietly.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I had to say it.”

“I’d like to know all your truths, Myka,” Helena whispered, low and melodic, as she covered Myka’s hand with her own. Myka froze for a split second, then pulled away, sitting up on the bed.

“You can’t say stuff like that, Helena,” she said shaking her head, “You can’t... save my life and make me feel things I have never  _ever_  felt before, and then leave me. And tell me it’s for my own good. You just can’t!” Myka knew she was bordering on shouting, but she couldn’t help it.

“Myka-”

“No, don’t,” she cut the other woman off, taking a deep breath, “I want to say some stuff right now. While you can’t go anywhere.”

Helena gave her a pained look. Myka took another impossibly deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I...  _really_  fucking love you, Helena. I am completely, desperately in love with you,” Myka felt tears making their way down her cheeks, but she couldn’t bear to open her eyes, “And it doesn’t even matter that you broke my fucking heart. That you- you didn’t give me a chance to tell you all this before. A chance to prove to you that I don’t care about your past or your mistakes, I just want  _you_. I  _need you_.” Myka choked on a sob.

“You didn’t give me a chance to show you that we could be extraordinary, Helena, I know we could be,” she continued, shaking her head and finally opening her eyes, “But none of that matters right now, because you could die today.”

“Myka,” Helena was crying freely.

“You said you didn’t want to live in a world without me?” Myka continued, “Then you need to know that if you die today, because of this, because of me…” She trailed off, trying to regain some composure as she shook her head and bit her lip.

“If you die today, I will never be okay.  _Never_. So, this world loses me either way. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Helena nodded, tears streaming down her face, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Myka coughed, wiping her eyes.

She pushed herself closer to the Helena and leaned over the woman, careful not to bump her midsection. Helena’s mouth parted in surprise, but she didn’t move. Myka tenderly brushed away several tears, leaning closer still. She glanced at Helena’s lips, the unspoken question obvious in her wide eyes. Her hand trailed slowly across the other woman’s slick cheek and down behind her ear.

Without warning, she felt Helena’s hand tangle in the hair at the back of her head and firmly guide their lips together. And all of a sudden, they were kissing- desperate and breathless and frantic. Myka tasted the salt of their tears and marveled at the softness of Helena’s mouth. She couldn’t seem to get enough of the other woman. She tried her best to be mindful of Helena’s wound, but she was sure she must have knocked it at least once as their mouths met over and over. Eventually, she pulled back, tugging at Helena’s bottom lip with some finality. Helena kept her close, both hands around the base of her neck, foreheads touching.

“I had to,” she explained breathlessly, “If something happened. I needed to have this.” Helena nodded, her chest heaving.

“Please,” Myka pleaded, “you have to come back.”

“I promise, my love,” her voice broke with emotion. Even though Myka knew Helena could promise no such thing, she thanked her in a whisper. She wanted to keep this moment private and secure within her memory, so, lingering for just a few seconds more, Myka pulled away and sat up.

“I’ll go get the others, okay?” She asked, licking her lips. They felt wonderfully sore.

Helena closed her eyes, nodding. Myka hesitated for a moment, but said nothing more. She pushed herself off the bed and walked out of the study, her legs a bit wobbly from lack of use. She paused at the doorway to look back at Helena one more time. Her chest clenched painfully at seeing the other woman look so small on the hospital bed. Myka steeled herself with a deep breath and walked out the door to gather the rest of the team.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I just keep having to say this, but I’m so sorry for the delay! I can’t even blame it on my broken finger, I’ve just been hit with lots of life-business. Lame, I know. Anyway, thanks, as usual, for reading and I hope you enjoy. I had a little bit of trouble following up the feels from last chapter and getting back into the action, so I hope it all rings true.

**Chapter thirteen**

"Almost done," Abigail said patiently as H.G. fidgeted for the third time in roughly two minutes.

"Sorry," came the rather sheepish response, "I'm sure you can imagine I'm quite anxious to get this whole ordeal over with."

Abigail nodded, putting down the makeup brush she had been holding. She paused, collecting her thoughts, before choosing one of the cosmetic sponges strewn on the tray beside her. She spent a few quiet moments smudging together several different shades of blues and purples along Helena’s cheekbone.

“So, Ms. Wells,” Abigail began, trading the sponge for a magic marker, “how are you feeling?”

“Please, call me H.G.,” the woman said, awkwardly trying to keep her facial muscles as still as possible, “and I think perhaps you can tell I’m feeling a bit antsy.”

“And  _I_  think perhaps  _you_  know that I wasn’t simply referring to the fact that you have have to sit still while I draw a fake black eye on you,” she replied with an easy smirk.

“Oh, I think I shall like you, Ms. Cho,” Helena’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Abigail,” she clarified with an easy smile, pausing to smear some more color on the other woman’s face, “And you, H.G., are dodging my question."

"Well, well, bit pushy, aren't you?" Helena asked, her words laced with humor.

"You have no idea," she chuckled, "But, in all honesty, I'm still trying to find my place here. I've been frustrated, at times, because I'm not sure what I have to offer the Warehouse. The one thing I  _do_  know is that I'm a good listener- I was a therapist before I came here- and, no offense, you look like you could use one."

"You were trained as a psychotherapist?" Helena wondered.

"Mmhmm," Abigail hummed distractedly, touching up the fake bruise she had created. Helena regarded her silently for a few moments before lifting an eyebrow.

"You know, I slept with Sigmund Freud once," she said offhandedly, "It was rather strange, I have to say. And not in a good way."  Abigail stared at her for a few seconds, processing the statement, before a laugh found its way past her lips.

"H.G.," she shook her head, "I have no doubt that you that would be a fascinating patient. And with that… there- you're all set. Let me just clean all these supplies up and I'll grab you a mirror so you can see." They fell into a comfortable silence as Abigail cleared the tray beside her.

"I must confess, Abigail, you may be correct. In fact, I’d wager some therapy is probably long overdue. I’m not sure how much you know of my,” she paused, “ _history_ , but you must have noticed that things are quite complicated." The words were spoken softly, but they immediately caught Abigail’s attention. She finished her task as she contemplated a response.

“From what I’ve noticed, complicated is probably an understatement,” Abigail agreed after a moment, “I wasn’t kidding, you know. It would be my pleasure to work with you. We could talk over video chat? Or, if you prefer, I can recommend you someone in Wisconsin?" Abigail asked pointedly. Helena frowned for just a moment before sliding an impassive mask over her features.

"Yes, I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, doctor," she responded stiffly, looking away.

“You are returning to Wisconsin after all this, aren’t you?” Abigail knew she was pushing her luck with the guarded woman, but it was against her nature not to try. Unfortunately for her, the gamble didn’t seem to be paying off as Helena made no attempt to either answer or turn her head back toward the other woman.

"H.G., I’m sorry,” she frowned, “I don't mean to pry.”

“Really? I’d say you’re doing a loathsome job if that’s the case,” her words carried a sharp edge that would have probably warned most people to drop the subject and walk away. Abigail Cho was not, she liked to believe,  _most_  people. She saw the words, and their tone, for exactly what they were- a defense mechanism.

“You’re right,” she agreed, nodding and holding out a mirror to the other woman, “I was trying to help, but I’ve obviously overstepped my bounds.” Helena finally looked her way, but said nothing as she took the mirror and studied her reflection.

“This actually looks quite realistic,” she said, eyeing Abigail after a long moment, “You know, when Pete informed of us Paracelsus’ ability to sense the cancer by looking into my eyes and you first suggested this plan of action, I was certain it was a mistake.”

“And now?” Abigail asked hopefully. Helena nodded seriously.

“Oh, it’s probably still a mistake. But at least now I know that you may have a future as an artist,” she grinned wickedly before continuing, “because you’re clearly rather atrocious at psychotherapy.” Abigail knew the other woman was only teasing, her tone and facial expressions were easy to read, but she couldn’t help but freeze up at the words. She also couldn’t stop the flood of memories that assaulted her consciousness.

“I was only joking, Abigail. I’m sorry,” H.G. said awkwardly, her hand reaching out to cover Abigail’s own.

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head to break her reverie and tried to smile, “ _I’m_  sorry I zoned out there. It’s just- there’s a reason I’m not a therapist anymore. Your words hit a little too close to home.” She hoped the other woman would understand what she was getting at.

“Oh,” Helena looked suddenly guilty, “bollocks. How perfectly dreadful of me- I had no idea.” She squeezed the other woman’s hand.

“I do hope you’ll pardon my behavior, Abigail. Perhaps, after all this is over, we can start fresh? Tabula rasa, as they say?” H.G. asked and Abigail smiled warmly at the genuine tone.

“I’d really like that,” she said simply, squeezing Helena’s hand, “I’ll go get the others. You should rest for a little while longer.”

/

“Is this  _really_  necessary? I’m perfectly capable of moving myself one yard.” H.G. questioned a short while later with a roll of her eyes. Myka couldn’t help but chuckle at Helena’s willful tone. The debilitated woman was trying to convince the team that she should just go ahead and move from the bed to the wheelchair on her own. Everyone else, being generally rational humans (with the exception of Pete some of the time), had been trying to explain to her that, given the circumstances, she shouldn’t exert more energy than necessary.

“Hey, come on H.G., I promise I won’t even cop a feel,” Pete crossed his heart, grinning.

“I’m not entirely familiar with that turn of phrase, Peter, but I do believe I can extrapolate its meaning,” H.G. replied with narrowed eyes, “Myka, darling, will you strike him on my behalf? You’re quite good at at it.” Myka’s chest suddenly tightened at both the request and the look on the other woman’s face. She quirked up her lip, stepped forward and slugged Pete in the shoulder.

“Ow! Geez, Mykes, that hurt. You know, I always thought I would enjoy two ladies ganging up on me,” Pete complained half-heartedly, rubbing his arm. Myka felt a blush creeping up her neck, but managed to glare at her partner.

“Well done, Myka,” Helena chirped brightly, “Alright, Peter, I suppose you may now pick me up.” Pete grumbled good-naturedly, but Myka saw him smile as he bent to pick up H.G. Myka bit her lip, hit with a thick wave of emotion, as she watched her partner ease Helena tenderly into the chair.

“Okay?” She barely heard the whisper leave Pete’s mouth. Helena nodded in response, eyes screwed shut. It was obvious that she was in some pain, but was trying hard not to show it. Pete moved to the back of H.G.’s wheelchair and started to push, but Myka stilled him with a hand on his forearm.

“I’ll take it from here,” she told him. He nodded and walked on ahead with the rest of the group. Myka exhaled deeply as she grabbed onto the handlebars.

“Thank you for saving me, darling,” Helena’s neck craned back to look at her, “I was certain Pete would run me right into a wall.” H.G. grinned and Myka was again struck with an unnameable clenching of her insides. The feelings weren’t new, by any means, but they had a different weight to them now that she knew they weren’t entirely unrequited.

“He’s a menace,” Myka replied, unable to stop the corner of her mouth from turning upward.

She began to push the chair out of the B&B as Helena turned her head back around to face the front. Myka’s feet felt like they were tied to two concrete blocks, uncooperative and sluggish as they were. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she couldn’t seem to get her mouth to cooperate.

"Myka, love," Helena's soft voice startled her, "before we leave, I’d like to apologize.” Myka paused, but still couldn’t find her voice.

“For staying away without any contact. For not returning with you when you left Wisconsin. For not  _giving us a chance_ , as I believe you put it,” Helena continued after a moment, “And, I do hate to admit it, but I have been so terrified of hurting you and of letting you down that I suppose it blinded me to how deep your emotions truly ran. It appears you’re rather fond of me.” Myka smiled, slow and wide, at that tone of self-importance that she found infuriatingly adorable. Or maybe adorably infuriating, she wasn’t quite sure.

“Well, Helena,” Myka replied finally, easing the wheelchair over the threshold, “you did save my life- twice now, actually- so I guess we can call it even for now.”

The SUV was parked right up at the base of the few steps that descended from the front door and Pete hopped up to meet them as soon as the chair was close to the edge.

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his arms.

“Actually, Pete,” Myka said, locking the wheels, “I’ll take her.” Her partner looked at her quizzically.

“You sure?”

“Don’t worry,” she retorted, stepping around to the side of the wheelchair, “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Oh, I’m not worried, darling,” Helena’s eyes were playful as they found her.

“Just put your arm around me, okay?” Myka smiled and eased her hands under the other woman, inhaling deeply.

“With pleasure,” she heard H.G. drawl just before she hoisted her out of the chair as smoothly as she could. Myka gave a soft grunt of exertion as she cradled the injured woman close to her.

“You okay?” Myka breathed, turning to head down the steps.

“Quite,” Helena’s breath was warm and wispy against her neck, and Myka was glad when she made it to the SUV without incident. She wordlessly settled the other woman into the seat, then trotted around to the other side of the car. Pete was right behind her, but it seemed everyone else had already left.

Myka slid into the backseat until her hip brushed lightly against Helena’s. She smiled in a way that she hoped was reassuring and let her hand fall to cover the other woman’s.

“All set?” Artie looked back from his place behind the steering wheel.

“Okay, Helena?” Vanessa questioned simultaneously. Myka was a little surprised that Pete, who could be equal parts old-fashioned romantic and immature child, didn’t say “aw” as the older couple shared a smile in the front seat.

“Righty ho,” H.G. grinned, “shall we save the day, then?” How the woman could be, or even act, cocky at a time like this, Myka didn’t think she would ever know. She did, however, find a strange sort of reassurance in Helena’s headstrong attitude. She shook her head bemusedly and gave the woman’s hand a gentle squeeze as the SUV pulled out of the driveway and headed back to the Warehouse.

/

“Ah, excellent, she has finally returned,” Paracelsus remarked, not bothering to look up from his work.

“H.G.?” Claudia nervously craned her neck around, but didn't glimpse any signs of movement. She was still stuck in the same position she had been for the past few hours- tied, painfully tight she might add, to an uncomfortable chair.

“She should be here shortly; she just entered the Warehouse,” the alchemist added. Claudia nodded distractedly, but didn’t give any vocal response. Since Paracelsus had explained his plan, which, seemingly, was going to lead to her untimely death, Claudia just wasn’t feeling very chatty.

Several minutes later, Claudia saw H.G. approaching in the distance. Pride swelled within her as she noticed that the other woman was using Claudia’s very own modified stagecoach to traverse the Warehouse. Her pride turned to anxiety almost immediately, however, when she realized her friend was leaning unusually heavily on the bar and wearing large, dark sunglasses in the already dim space. It was obvious the woman was injured.  _Shit, H.G.,_  Claudia thought to herself,  _what are we going to do now?_

“Hello again,” Helena called brightly as she approached. _Too brightly,_  Claudia noted. She was definitely overcompensating. Paracelsus finally looked up from his notations just as Helena dismounted from the stagecoach. Claudia hoped he didn’t notice her weakness.

“You’re injured,” he stated simply, tilting his head, “what happened?”  _Frak,_  Claudia sighed. Of course he would choose now to finally pay attention.

“A had a bit of a run in while in San Francisco,” H.G. shuffled over to the work table, “with a fellow who claimed to be your brother.”

“Sutton?” Paracelsus asked with mild amusement, “That old windbag was able to wound you?” Helena’s mouth twisted in disdain.

“So he  _is_  your brother? Yes, well, thank you for your concern- and your warning,” she spat, “And how the dickens do you have a brother here? Was he bronzed as well?”  H.G.’s tone was making Claudia very uneasy. She didn’t think it seemed very smart to a give ‘tude to a man who held both of their lives in his hand.

“Let me see your face,” Paracelsus requested, ignoring her question and taking a step closer. Helena sighed emphatically and lifted her sunglasses, eyes still shut tight, to reveal a painful looking bruise lining her cheekbone.

“Can we move on and allow me to keep a shred of my pride?  _Please?_ ” H.G. asked tightly, lowering the glasses, “I  _was_  successful in procuring the wood you requested, after all.”

“Right, yes,” he smiled, eyes twinkling, “Well, I do believe I should be able to help you with your situation. How does immortality sound?” Claudia swallowed thickly- this was it. Paracelsus was about to slaughter her like a tiny, adorable lamb.

“Aces, but must we use young Claudia?” Helena asked, running a finger along the crucifixion nail that sat on the table, “I’ve grown rather fond of her.”

“Though I admit she has a quick mind,” Paracelsus allowed, and finally looked at Clauda for the first time in hours, “something about her quite bothers me. My apologies.” Claudia was shocked by his detachment and the abrupt dismissal of her life. Helena sighed softly.

“That _is_  unfortunate," she shook her head, frowning, "but I suppose you’re in charge here.” Claudia’s eyes widened. What kind of game was H.G. playing?

“May I assist you?” Helena asked casually. Paracelsus studied her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before nodding.

“Thank you, yes,” he replied, walking up to Claudia. Without looking her in the eyes, he began to roll up her sleeves.

“I’ll use the nail to open her veins,” he continued clinically, “And then we will heat up the stone in a bath of her blood. If I’m correct, which I usually am, everything should run smoothly. Those injuries will be ancient history and your future will be limitless.”

Claudia gripped the armrests of the chair with white knuckles. She only wanted to be able to look into H.G.'s eyes, she was sure, or at least she really, really hoped,  that she was see confidence and reassurance and concern. The other woman, however, was standing directly behind Paracelsus with her back turned. She was still studying all of the equipment and notes scattered on the work table.

"Will you please hand me the crucifixion nail?" The alchemist asked, turning away from Claudia. She shifted in the chair to see around Paracelsus, but wasn't able to get a clear view.

"Of course," the older woman replied evenly, "here you are, then." Helena turned away from the table suddenly, her hand outstretched. Claudia couldn't exactly see what was happening, but she immediately knew  _something_  was going on.

Paracelsus didn't turn back around to face her, to slaughter her- he didn't even speak. He seemed frozen to the spot. It took Claudia a moment to notice the orange glow faintly emitting from where his hand must be. It took her only a couple of additional seconds to remember an artifact that produced that particular phenomenon.

 _Typhoid Mary's butcher knife?_  she wondered to herself. Just as she was about to call out and ask what was happening she saw H.G. plunge a syringe into Paracelsus' neck with her free hand. Claudia had no idea what was injected in their enemy, but it seemed likely a very good sign that they had gained the upper hand. A huge smile was creeping its way onto her face as she saw Paracelsus sway and then, slowly, heavily, fall forward.

He seemed to stagger for just a moment before dropping to the ground, taking Helena down with him. They crashed back against the edge of the table with a dull thud before sliding to the floor. Claudia winced, she was sure that H.G.’s back was going to be feeling pretty rough tomorrow. She made a quick mental note to offer the inventor as many massages or run as many hot baths as the woman could possibly want once they got out of the Warehouse.

"Woah, H.G.," she smiled, tugging at her the ropes which bound her arms impatiently, "that was so frakking awesome! What was that?"

When the woman gave no response, Claudia's smile started to slip.

"H.G.? You okay?" She saw some movement on the floor, but a clear view of her friend was still obstructed by Paracelsus' limp body. She quickly stilled her restless movement, straining to hear any response. After a few seconds, she heard a few faint gasps and strained forward in her chair. Finally, Helena managed to push Paracelsus off of herself and out of Claudia’s line of vision.

"H.G…" she gasped, her eyes widening. On the floor in front of her, Helena laid in an expanding pool of blood, Typhoid Mary’s butcher knife jutting out from her midsection.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. ::sheepish look:: Don’t hate me, I can’t help these things.


	14. Chapter 14

"We should really get up."

"Mmm," Helena concurred with a soft hum, burrowing her face into the mess of auburn curls in front of her. She ventured even farther forward, snaking her way through the unkempt tresses, until her lips were rewarded with smooth skin. She began to place tiny kisses along soft shoulders, her lips barely moving.

"Helena, I'm serious."

"Mmhmm," she mumbled between kisses, "yes,  _very_  serious. Me, too." She tightened her grasp on the warm hip beneath her fingers and closed the already small gap between their bodies. A low, raspy laugh escaped from deep within the chest of her bedmate as the other woman wriggled back against her.

"You're incorrigible," she could hear the smile in Myka's voice.

"I am no such thing," she replied indignantly, hand tracing a path up the curve of Myka's hip before dipping down to rest between her breasts.

"Helena," Myka warned, covering Helena's hand with her own, "we have things we're supposed to finish today, remember?"

She sighed into Myka's shoulder, draping a leg around the other woman's longer ones.

"But, darling," she complained, "you're so warm. And it's dreadfully chilly out there."

"I know," Myka agreed, tugging Helena's palm up to her lips, "but it's important. And you promised me."

"Did I? Are you quite certain?" Helena ran her foot up and down a smooth shin.

"Mmhmm, you definitely did," Myka confirmed between warm kisses along Helena's knuckles, "I have an eidetic memory, you know."

"Ah, yes, I have been made aware of that, love, thank you."

"So, you should probably listen to me," Myka nibbled on the tip of Helena's index finger.

"Darling, I'm  _very_  good at following instructions. I thought I proved that to you last night- or was it this morning?" She took the opportunity to run her finger along Myka's bottom lip as she pressed their bodies tighter together.

"Helena," Myka breathed shakily, pulling H.G.'s hand away from her mouth and cradling it under her chin, "we- we  _have_  to get up." Helena suddenly began to shiver violently.

"Just a while longer, Myka, please," Helena whispered, "I'm finding it rather difficult to leave you."

"Helena," Myka repeated, more sternly now, "get up." H.G. shook her head into Myka's curls.

"Helena," she said once more, louder now.

"Please, just let me rest here. It's so warm," she begged, squeezing Myka tightly.

"Helena!" the other woman shouted, "Wake up!"

"No," she mumbled.

"H.G.! You have to wake up!" Claudia's voice was shrill as it rang through her head. Helena opened her eyes, gasping.

"Oh, thank god," Claudia voice sounded strained and far away, “you have to help me out of this." Helena lifted her head an inch off the floor for just a moment to see the younger woman straining at the ropes around her wrists. She winced as her skull fell back to the floor with a wet thud. Everything felt cold and terrible; she wanted to be back in bed with Myka.

"H.G.!" Claudia's shout jolted her eyes open once more, "Please, we still have to bronze him. No one can get in here to help us- I need you to stay awake!" Myka had told her to wake up, too. Perhaps it was important.

"Claudia," she rasped, "what happened?"

"You got hurt," she heard Claudia say. And was the girl under water? She could barely understand her.

"But I need you to come here and help me out of this chair, okay?” She continued, “It's really important."  _Hurt?_  She lifted her head again and noticed the handle of a knife sticking out from her belly. She raised her hands, they were covered in blood.  _I don't want to have a knife in me,_  she thought dumbly, moving her hands toward the handle.

"H.G.! No!" Claudia screamed, "Don't touch that!" She froze.

"Claudia, there's a knife in me," she breathed, "I don't want it."

"I know," the younger woman said, straining violently at her bindings, "but you have to wait, you'll make it worse." She nodded, dropping her hands.

"Will you make it better? Go fetch Myka, I'm certain she'll know what to so," Helena's eyes felt heavy again.

"I can't," Claudia sounded like she was in pain, too, "H.G., it's just you and me and I  _really_  need your help."

"Myka will help, don't worry," she mumbled.

"No, H.G., Myka needs you to come over here," Claudia was crying.

"She does? Myka was so sad when I left," Helena shook her head, "I'm quite awful."

"If you don't get over here now, she is going to be even sadder, Helena!" Claudia yelled, her voice cracking. Helena frowned, she didn't want that at all.  _Well, alright,_  she thought.

With a little grunt, she blindly felt around on the floor around her. Her bag should be close, she thought, but all she could feel was sticky concrete.

"Your left!" Claudia shouted excitedly, sniffling, "Just a little farther!" Helena reached to her left, her fingertips brushing fabric.  _Aces_. She tugged the bag toward her and unzipped it as quickly as she could.

"What's in there?" She heard Claudia ask the question, but couldn't quite find the energy to respond. She finally felt the cool metal of her grappler beneath her hand.

Inhaling raggedly, she tugged it loose from the bag and switched it to her right hand. Helena steadied herself for a moment before grabbing the handle of the bag with her left hand, raising her head and aiming the grappling gun toward Claudia.

"H.G.?" The young woman asked nervously. Helena didn’t respond, but grunted as she pulled the trigger. The hook darted between the legs of Claudia's chair before clanging off of a shelf behind her. It zipped back toward them, catching on the leg of the chair and jerking Helena’s body across the slick floor. She screamed in pain as she slammed against Claudia's shins.  

"You okay?" The redhead checked, wincing.

"No," Helena panted, reaching into the bag once again. She felt a great deal more awake now that an acute pain was searing through her body. She fumbled around the bag for a moment more before she felt the artifact she had been searching for.

“Ah, thank you, Artie,” she whispered to herself, clasping the wooden object, a pulley from the wreckage of the  _HMS Victory_ , in both her hands. It supposedly had the power to unknot any rope or cord, but she had never seen it in action.

Acting on instinct, H.G. simply held the wheel of the pulley against a bit of rope she was able to reach. After a few tense moments, one end of the line snaked its way through the pulley and began to create tidy loops on the floor of the Warehouse.

“Yes!” Claudia hissed, wriggling her right arm out of the loosening ties, “H.G., I seriously owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied and closed her eyes once again, her earlier burst of energy gone.

“Stay awake,” she heard the younger woman command over the sound of rope rushing past her ears.

“I’ve done as you asked, just let me rest a moment,” she sighed. There was no immediate response, so Helena kept her eyes shut and let her body slacken.

“Call an ambulance,” Claudia said suddenly. H.G. opened one eye lazily to see who else had arrived. The other woman was almost free, save one leg, and had her cellphone up to her ear.  _Modern marvels, cellphones are_ , Helena mused drowsily.

“Yeah, I’m about to take him to the bronzer,” Claudia continued, standing up as the end of the rope passed through the pulley, “and I need you guys in here with medical help as soon as that force field drops.” The woman jogged toward the stagecoach and Helena heard her drive it next to Paracelsus’ limp body.

“It’s H.G.,” she explained, “she- she was stabbed. Paracelsus stabbed her with the butcher knife. Artie, I think it’s bad.” Claudia’s voice had dropped to just above a whisper, but Helena still managed to hear her.

“I can’t talk, I’ve gotta move him,” the other woman’s voice was back to a normal level, but it sounded off somehow, “but I’m going to leave the phone with her. Try to keep her awake, okay?”

Claudia was back at Helena’s side in an instant. H.G. opened her eyes as the young woman kneeled next to her and smoothed a few sweaty strands of hair away from her face.

“H.G., please stay awake, okay?” Helena managed a small nod in response.

“I’ll be right back, I promise, just keep talking to everyone else, okay? Tell them about what a badass you are?” Claudia sniffled through a smile, wiping brusquely at her eyes.

“Is it Myka?” She asked hopefully.

“It’s Artie,” she replied, switching the call to speakerphone, “Stay awake, H.G.” Claudia placed the phone on Helena’s chest and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and then was gone. Helena heard the stagecoach disappear into the Warehouse.

“Helena?” Artie’s voice barked out from the phone.

“Hello, Artie,” she whispered, “I’m sorry, but I rather don’t feel like talking.”

“Too bad,” he shot back, “tell me what happened.”

“Claudia will fill you in, I’m sure,” she coughed, wincing, “I just want to rest a bit, I won’t fall asleep.”

“Yes, you will. Did Paracelsus know you were lying?”

“Arthur, is Myka there?” Helena wondered, her eyes slipping closed, “If I have to have a chat, I’d like it to be with my Myka.” There was a pause, only for a few seconds, but long enough that H.G. was starting to drift back to sleep.

“I’m here,” Myka’s voice was thin.

“Darling,” Helena tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to manage it, “there you are.”

“Helena, what happened?”

“Are you crying? Is everything alright?” H.G. could hear her words slurring and shook her head thickly in attempt to clear the fog surrounding her.

“I can’t-” Myka’s voice was moving away.

“Don’t go,” she sighed, her breath wet and raspy, “I keep losing you, love. I was having the most wonderful dream just now.”

“H.G.,” Artie’s voice was stern, “I need you to focus on staying awake.” She heard more sounds that she couldn’t quite make out- perhaps it was Claudia returning? If that was the case, surely it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick catnap. Just for a moment.

“Helena!” Myka was suddenly screaming through the speaker of the phone, “ _Please_! Please, wake up!”

“Myka,” she mumbled, “you’re back.” She heard more sounds- words, maybe. Maybe not. Her entirely body felt so leaden, she couldn't figure out what was going on. After a few seconds, the sounds faded away completely and Helena felt at peace.

When she opened her eyes once more she had no idea how much time had passed, but it was obvious that her situation had changed completely.

“Are you ready, Ms. Wells?” Mrs. Frederick stood in front of her, arms crossed, and a stern look on her face.

“What?” She felt disoriented and thick. Her wrists were bound above her head- it all felt startlingly familiar. With a gasp, she realized what was happening; she was in the bronzer. Again.

“We don’t have all day,” Artie commented distractedly as he punched commands into the computer station a few yards away.

“What? I don’t- what happened?” She struggled against her shackles, shaking her head dumbly.

“It’s time to go back where you belong,” Mrs. Frederick replied with a sigh, “You’ve wasted far too much of our time and resources.”

“No,” she whispered, “you all told me that I belong here. What has changed?”

“Helena, honestly, we’re sick of cleaning up your messes," Mrs. Frederick gestured to the floor. H.G. finally noticed the pool of blood growing around her feet and the knife that was still jutting out from her stomach.

“Oh,” she nodded in agreement, “yes, I see. Well, is everyone alright at least? Claudia? Myka?”

“Jesus, Helena, I am so sick of your shit!” Artie snapped, walking closer with a grim expression.

“What? Artie, I-” Helena began, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Just fucking stop trying to play God!” He shouted at her, his hands clenching at his sides.

“You think- you think that’s what I’m doing?” H.G. asked with wonder.

“It’s what you’ve  _always_  done,” he spat, gesturing vaguely behind himself, “or, at least, tried to.”

It was only then that Helena noticed that there were other people standing amongst the bronze statues. One of them began to emerge from the shadows.

"Claudia,” she gasped in horror. The young woman’s skin was utterly pallid, creating a striking contrast with the deep crimson blood that openly flowed from slashes on her neck and wrists. She stood a few paces in front of the bronzer and stared at Helena in disgust.

“What happened? I thought you took care of Paracelsus?” H.G. shook her head in disbelief.

“Almost,” she nodded, “but he woke up before I could bronze him. If you had helped me out of the chair quicker I would’ve been fine, but you stayed inside that selfish dream of yours for too long. As if Myka would ever be happy with someone like you.” Claudia scoffed cruelly before continuing.

“Paracelsus easily got the upper hand on me. He drained my blood. Slowly. So, thanks for the help, H.G.,” the young woman finished sarcastically, before turning to leave.

“Claudia, wait,” Helena called out lamely, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re  _sorry_?” Myka had appeared in front of her in the blink of an eye, “You’re always sorry about something. Doesn’t really change anything though, does it?” Her normally vibrant Myka was in a wheelchair, emaciated and ashen.

“No,” she whispered, “I saved you.”

“Oh, right,” Myka nodded, the silk scarf that was wrapped around her bald head rippling with the movement, “the famous H.G. Wells- such a hero. Spare me. Did you ever think that maybe we should have checked to make sure your brilliant plan worked before you rushed off?”

“I had to help Claudia,” Helena pleaded quietly.

“Yeah, and look how great that turned out. You’re so pathetic,” there was venom in Myka’s words.

“Darling, please don’t do this, I love you,” tears were streaming down H.G.’s cheeks.

“You don’t love me- you’re not capable of it. The only person you love is yourself,” Myka sighed.

“That’s not true,” Helena closed her eyes and shook her head, “It’s not. It’s not.”

“Mummy,” a voice that had been silenced over a century ago rang through her head.

“Oh, God,” she screwed her eyelids shut tighter, “Christina.”

“Why didn’t you stop the bad men?” Helena opened her eyes to see her daughter, maimed and broken, standing next to Myka’s wheelchair.

“Christina,” she sobbed.

“They hurt me, Mummy, they hurt me so much. I cried and I cried and you didn’t help me,” the little girl insisted. Myka reached out to grab one of her small hands.

“That’s because your mummy didn’t love you. She wasn’t a very good mother, was she?” Myka asked with a sympathetic face.

“No, she wasn’t at all,” Christina agreed, “It hurt so terribly, Miss Bering, and she let them do it.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Myka cooed, “but she’s going someplace where she can’t hurt anyone as badly as she hurt us ever again.” Helena began to scream and thrash savagely against the shackles.

“Christina,” Artie called from the computer, “would you like to press the button?”

“Oh, yes!” Christina answered excitedly, skipping over to him, “Thank you, sir!”

“No,” Helena walied, “Please no!”

“Okay, kiddo, just hit this button and you’ll never have to see your sorry excuse for a mother again,” Artie gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Brilliant,” she giggled, slapping her hand on the button without hesitation. Helena’s animalistic cries became muted as the chamber doors shut in front of her. The last thing she saw was Myka’s pitiless stare, the once vibrant green eyes now sunken and cold as the woman’s mouth twisted into a sneer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this chapter was too strange, but I think it was necessary and hopefully won't seem so over-the-top after you read the next chapter. Thanks, as always, for taking the time to read. We're starting to approach an end, I think. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter fifteen**

Pete exhaled a little sigh of relief when he saw the large black van pull up, its tires spraying a cloud of dust as they squealed to a halt.  _One regent medical team, coming right up_. A young man and woman dressed in scrubs hopped out with purpose and immediately went to work, unloading a stretcher, an EMT kit and a cooler. Pete watched as Dr. Vanessa approached the duo, nodded to himself and strode off briskly to check in with Myka.

He found his partner just as he had left her- slumped against the tire of their SUV, her knees drawn to her chest, blankly staring off into the distance. He frowned down at her, pausing for just a second before continuing forward.

"You ready, Mykes?" Pete asked gently, letting his body slide down the side door of the truck and settle on the ground next to her.

"Hmm?" She hummed in response, not bothering to look at him.  
"The med team just got here. So, as soon as that force field drops, we can go in there and get her," he laid his hand on Myka's arm in an attempt to get her attention.

"She stopped answering, Pete," Myka's voice was completely lifeless.

"Yeah, she did," he nodded, squeezing her arm, "but that doesn't mean that she-" Pete paused, unsure of how to continue.

"That she's dead?" Myka finally looked at him with wide, glassy eyes that were startlingly empty. He clenched his jaw.

"Right, I, it-" he fumbled over his words, "it doesn't mean  _that_." She looked away again without responding and Pete sighed angrily.

"Myka,  _what_  are you doing? You cannot give up right now," he told her sternly.

"Pete-" she began warily.

"No," he interjected, his voice raising, "you're acting like H.G.'s already gone. We don't know  _anything_  yet and you're just throwing in the towel? What's the deal?" Myka hung her head between her legs and lifted her hands behind her neck.

"When that force field drops," she paused, clutching fistfuls of her hair, "I am absolutely going to run like hell to find her and- and keep her alive, if I can. But, right now, I feel like I can't breathe and there is nothing I can do. And I can't stop hearing her voice in my head, asking if  _I'm_  alright as she lays there with a knife in her. And I can't stop feeling-" Pete draped an arm over her back as she choked on a sob.

"I can't," she keened, "Pete, I can't."

"Mykes," Pete whispered, giving her a squeeze as he tried to think of the right words.

"I told her," she coughed, trying to compose herself.

"You told her what?" He led gently, rubbing broad circles on the plane of her back.

"Everything-" Myka started, before her eyes widened with a gasp, "The force field." Before he was able to register her words, Myka shot up and broke into a sprint toward the newly freed Warehouse. After just a moment's hesitation, Pete jumped up to follow her.

"Mrs. Frederick!" Artie's shout drew Pete's attention away from Myka and toward his boss. He slowed down when he saw the woman in question laying awkwardly on the ground.

"Mrs. F," he whispered to himself, eyes wide.

"Go, all of you!" Dr. Vanessa called as she jogged up to the unconscious figure, "I'll take care of Irene." Pete nodded once and turned his gaze back to locate Myka, but the woman had pulled far ahead and was already entering the Warehouse. He put his head down and moved as quickly as his legs would take him.

They darted through the Warehouse, Myka a blur in front of him that he could only catch a glimpse of every few moments.

"Claudia!" Steve's voice rang out from somewhere on his right, but Pete didn't stop. He wouldn't-  _couldn't_ \- leave Myka to deal with this on her own. His pulse was loud in his ears, almost, but not quite, drowning out his anxious thoughts and the heavy footsteps following him.

"Hurry!" Myka's scream was desperate and piercing. Pete tried to shift his stride into another gear as he turned into the aisle that would lead him to his partner.

Approaching the scene a few moments later, he felt his mouth fall open in shock and horror. There was  _so much_  blood. Glistening, red streaks painted the ground all the way from the worktable to the spot where H.G.'s body had come to rest.

"H.G," he muttered, shaking his head. There was a discouragingly large, dark puddle of blood surrounding the woman and he could see the handle of a knife protruding from her stomach.  _Oh God, she's dead,_  Pete thought, frozen to the spot. Myka was clutching H.G.'s hand and running her fingers through the woman's hair, seemingly unaware (or caring) that she was now covered in blood as well.

Pete flinched as the male EMT, a young-looking black guy, came rushing past him with the medical kit.

"I'm gonna start a line," he called over his shoulder, coming to kneel on the other side of H.G., "We need that blood over here  _now_!"

Pete was barely able to get himself out of the way as the other EMT, a blonde woman, came barreling down the aisle, stretcher in tow. He watched dumbly as the woman joined her partner on the floor and opened the cooler.

"Ma'am," the woman said evenly to Myka, pulling a blood bag out, "we need space to work." Myka shook her head and Pete noticed tears running down her face.

"I found a weak pulse," the young man told his colleague.

"Lattimer," the blonde growled, "get her out of here!" Pete snapped into action with a shake of his head. He jogged over and carefully placed a hand on Myka's shoulder.

"Come on, Mykes," he said with a squeeze, "you gotta back up."

"Helena," she breathed, ignoring Pete, "wake up." Pete grimaced as the EMT's eyes found his with a very pointed look.

"Sorry, Myka," he murmured as he grabbed his partner's arms and pulled her away from H.G.'s unconscious form.

"No!" She cried, straining to get away, "Pete, let me go!" His jaw clenched tightly as Myka's raw voice cut into him deeply.

"Mykes, let them work," he tried to explain. He was sure that Myka knew she shouldn't get in the way, but his partner had completely come undone.

"Helena," she sobbed, still straining at Pete's grasp, "please."

/

"Well, well, well," Helena purred, adjusting a blanket around the other woman, "here I thought proper manners were all but dead in this century. You have, once again, managed to surprise me, darling."

"Please," Myka repeated, her tone annoyed, "Helena, I feel absolutely, one hundred percent fine. I think I can  _at least_  go downstairs for breakfast." The curly haired woman's body language was defeated- she lied completely still, arms resting above the comforter- but her narrowed eyes followed Helena's every move.

"I shall fetch you any and everything you could possibly desire to eat," she replied, pressing a firm kiss to Myka's hairline as she finished smoothing the blanket. The other agent raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and while I have no doubt about that," she smirked, "it's not the point."

"Alright then, enlighten me, love," she replied, collecting a few cups and dishes leftover from the previous evening, "what  _is_  the point?"

"Hel," something in Myka's tone gave her pause, "come here." Helena turned her gaze back toward the bed and felt her breath catch within her chest. The early morning gleam illuminated Myka's flawless skin and delicate shadows accentuated the swell of her stomach. Helena walked over and sat down on the edge of their bed, resting a hand atop the other woman's.

"Honey, I'm restless," Myka cocked her head to the side and took her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I know you are, Myka," she sighed.

"And, Dr. V said I don't have to be on  _bed rest_ , I just need to take it easy," Myka continued, her gaze dropping to her belly, "but you keep insisting and I- I'm just restless." Helena sighed once more, shifting her position so that she was more fully on the bed.

"You may already know this about me, but I have a bit of a preoccupation with time and having control over it," H.G. began and Myka grinned up at her with a little hum of agreement, "Well, the other day- when you were injured- it was the first instance in my entire life where time bending to my will was an unwelcome feeling." Myka looked at her quizzically, but said nothing.

"Darling, my entire world came to a halt within the moment before I knew that you and our daughter would be fine. I believe I lived a thousand lives and died a thousand deaths in that very instant," she finished quietly, looking down at their interlocked hands. After a slight pause, she heard Myka groan in frustration.

"You cheat," the other woman said simply, a trace of a smile dancing on her lips, She shifted over awkwardly and opened her arm as an invitation. Helena obliged by resting her head on Myka's shoulder and draping her hand on Myka's belly.

"I know you're scared," Myka began, rubbing Helena's back lightly.

"I said nothing of the sort," H.G. interrupted quietly.

"Right, okay. I know that time stopped when you thought that something happened to us and it was an unwelcome feeling," Myka amended and Helena nodded into her shoulder, "but, baby, I'm fine. We're fine."

"I know," Helena idly traced patterns along Myka's belly.

"And I'm not going to break if I leave this room- our daughter is healthy," she stilled Helena's hand with her own, moving it around to the opposite side and pressing it into her stomach. Helena smiled deeply when she felt a tiny limb lash out.

" _Very_  healthy," Myka continued and Helena could hear a matching smile bloom in her voice, "In fact, I think she's restless, too." Helena sat up and scowled playfully at Myka.

"You cannot possibly know that, darling,  _and_  I think that speaking for our daughter in order to get what you desire is a bad habit to fall into. You can be quite cheeky, can't you?" Helena noticed a shift in her wife's demeanor.

"What I  _desire_?" Myka's tilted her head down and looked back up with smouldering eyes. Helena swallowed audibly.

"I'll tell you exactly what I  _desire_ ," her voice dropped to a low growl as she began to guide Helena's hand up the swell of her stomach and toward her chest, "First, I want you to fuck me." Myka's eyes fluttered shut as Helena's fingertips brushed over a stiff nipple and her lips found the smooth expanse of her neck.

"Fuck me, hard, until my toes curl and I come with your name on my lips," Myka continued breathlessly, "And then I want to go outside and enjoy a lovely breakfast with you. I want to feed you pieces of fruit and give you multiple orgasms under the warmth of the sun." Helena moaned into the other woman's neck.

" _That_  is what I desire, Helena," Myka guided the woman's face back a few inches to look at her, "Do you think you can help me out?" H.G. grinned devilishly.

"I am but your humble servant, my love. Who I am to deny you anything?" Helena asked before leaning forward to kiss her fiercely.

/

"Claudia," Artie huffed, out of breath, as he approached the young woman. Steve was bent over her, checking for injuries.

"She's unconscious," Steve said quickly and gestured to the large belt around her waist, "Artifact?" Artie nodded, crouching next to them.

"Magnús Ver Magnússon's belt," he explained, "World's Strongest Man competitor. The belt imbues the wearer with incredible strength. She must have used it so she could lift Paracelsus into the bronzer."

"What's the downside? Is she going to be okay?" Steve asked nervously, looking up at him.

"Minimal downside, she should just need help opening jars for the next week or so.  _This_ ," he gestured to the girl's unresponsive form, "is something different altogether. Can you lift her?" Steve nodded.

"Of course," he replied, gathering Claudia into his arms and standing next to the older man.

"We need to get her to Dr. Calder, put her on the stagecoach" Artie told him. Jinks nodded once again and gingerly placed his friend down. The two men headed for the Warehouse exit as quickly as they could.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hai. Sorry it's been a little while between updates- I started a story for AU week that I thought was going to be WAY shorter than it has turned out to be and I got a bit sidetracked. In case you don't remember what's happening here (and you don't want to go back and re-read), I've prepared a little recap:
> 
> Mrs. F asked H.G. to come back when Myka was in the hospital. They have a lot of feelings. Claudia was in the Warehouse with Paracelsus. They bantered and both tried to play the other. Helena went into the Warehouse, charmed Paracelsus and took Typhoid Mary's butcher knife. After some debate (and more feelings), H.G. used the knife to take Myka's cancer. She then transferred the cancer to Paracelsus, but got totally stabbed in the process. Now, Paracelsus is bronzed, Clauda and Mrs. F are unconscious and H.G. is sort of almost deadballs. TA DA! Can you believe it took me 31K+ words for that?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking with my story. I'm hoping to finish this and my AU fic this week because I'm a masochist (I guess) and I want to do NaNoWriMo.

**Chapter sixteen**

Myka paced around the too small waiting room, adrenaline pumping through her veins as possible scenarios and outcomes flashed through her mind. She knew that her frantic movements were making Pete, Steve and Artie more nervous, but she couldn't bring herself to sit down.

The regent medical team had worked fast, assessing Helena's injuries and keeping her alive as they rushed to the hospital. If Myka had been a little more cognizant of her surroundings at the time, she would have likely been impressed by their professionalism. As it was, Pete had struggled to keep her out of their way.

"Mykes," her partner's concerned voice jarred her, "you're making me dizzy. Come sit down for a while." She glanced up at Pete, his eyes hopeful as he patted the seat next to him, before shaking her head sharply.

"I just can't right now," she replied apologetically. Before lowering her gaze once more, she noticed Pete and Artie share a concerned glance. Myka chose to ignore them, instead re-tracing her slalom of a path around uncomfortable chairs and tacky end tables.

She sighed deeply, lifting a hand to rub distractedly at the base of her neck. Not only did she have Helena to worry about, but the status of Claudia and Mrs. Frederick was also weighing heavily on her mind. Jane, Kosan and Dr. Calder had taken the women back to the B&B after establishing that they were medically stable.

Myka was ashamed to recall the momentary pang of selfish anger that had bubbled up when she heard that Dr. Calder would not be performing surgery on Helena. She had, of course, swallowed it back down almost immediately, realizing that Claudia and Mrs. Frederick needed the Warehouse doctor more at the moment.

 _Besides_ , she thought, nodding to herself,  _the team that had tended to Helena in the Warehouse seemed more than capable-_  No. That wasn't true. She was lying to herself and she knew it. The regent doctors seemed young and Helena seemed like she was teetering on the edge of death.

Myka sank shakily down into the nearest chair, her head falling between her hands. Pete was beside her in an instant, his hand on her back.

"They should've been out to update us by now," she whispered before exhaling heavily, "Pete, what if she-"

"Myka," he interrupted firmly, "you know what I'm going to say to that." She wanted to smile at his loyalty, his positivity, but she couldn't get her muscles to cooperate.

"She's strong," he continued, "and she's stubborn." Myka nodded, looking over to him.

"I hate this," she said simply, "all of it."

"I know-" Pete's response was interrupted as the waiting room door swung open. The blonde doctor walked in with a grim expression and blood staining her scrubs. Terror exploded from somewhere down within Myka's chest and she froze. She felt Pete snap up to his feet beside her and saw Steve and Artie do the same in her peripheral vision. The doctor's eyes scanned the room before locking on Myka's.

"She's alive," the doctor began warily and that was all Myka heard. It was all she heard because she was far too busy willing her lungs to take in more air and her heart to get back on its normal rhythm. The doctor's lips kept moving, however, and Myka shook her head to clear the din.

"Sorry," she interrupted, "can you start over?"

"Mykes, you okay?" Pete checked, draping a heavy hand on her shoulder. She nodded in response, her eyes not leaving the doctor.

"Wells is alive," the woman repeated, her tone somehow both patient and rushed, "but she's in critical condition. She's still in surgery- we need to repair the damage done by the stab wound. There's been a bit of a complication, though, and Dr. Calder just arrived to assist."

"What happened?" Artie asked angrily.

"Oh, no, it wasn't-" the doctor had put her hands up in defense, " _we_  didn't do anything to her. It's just, well, we think she has typhoid fever." The doctor nervously wrung her hands.

"Typhoid fever," Artie whispered to himself, nodding, "of course."

"It came on unbelievably rapidly, so we called Vanessa," the woman furrowed her brow, "We have her on antibiotics, but it's- it's as though the disease had been progressing for weeks all of a sudden. Her body is going through a lot of trauma right now, so it's hard to keep her stable. I have to get back in there, but Dr. Calder wanted me to update you."

"Thank you," Pete said sincerely, "and tell Dr. V thanks, too." The doctor nodded once before turning on her heels and making her way out of the waiting room.

Pete sat down next to Myka, his arm solid around her shoulders.

"What does this mean, Artie?" He asked wearily. Artie and Steve came to sit closer to the pair of agents.

"I'm not entirely sure," Artie replied, looking far too helpless for Myka's liking, "Typhoid fever is a completely treatable disease, usually. But the fact that she contracted it from an artifact... It complicates things." Myka clenched her jaw.

"Calling Vanessa was the right move," Artie continued, "If anyone can help, it's her."

"What exactly does typhoid fever do?" Pete asked, raising his hand sheepishly.

"When caught and treated? Nothing, really. The patient just needs to stay hydrated and ride out the delirium of the fever. Without antibiotics, it can lead to a lot of complications."

"Is it-" Pete glanced at Myka, "Is it fatal?"

"It's possible," Artie said quietly.

"We should neutralize the artifact," Myka finally spoke, "just in case."

"Vanessa would have done that, first thing," Artie replied and Myka looked at him, eyes pleading, "but I'll go make sure."

"Thanks, Artie," Myka's voice was barely louder than a whisper.

/

A steady, soft beeping sound was the first thing that Helena registered. Eyes still closed, she inhaled the sharp antiseptic smell of a hospital and tried not to focus on the pain in her belly. After a long moment, she opened her eyes to find Myka sitting near her bedside reading a magazine.

"Myka?" Her voice was raspy from lack of use, "What's happened?"

"H.G.," Myka looked up with kind eyes, "you're awake, thank God." Helena smiled at her. She wanted to reach out, to wrap the other woman in her arms, but she couldn't get her tired muscles to cooperate.

"It was a little touch and go there for a while," Myka continued, making no move toward her, "We were all worried."

"Is everyone alright?" H.G. winced as she attempted to shift her position, "Claudia? You?"

"Yes, we're all fine," Myka nodded, brushing off her concern, "but we'll never be able to repay you for what you did."

"Nonsense," Helena frowned, wishing the woman would come closer to her bed, "I require nothing in return."

"No way, H.G.!" Myka's eyes widened, "I mean, you could've died- of  _course_  we owe you for that. In fact, I think Mrs. Frederick said that the Warehouse would be cutting you a pretty nice check." Myka grinned, looking pleased with herself.

"What? Myka-" She faltered, unsure what to say.

"Now, now," Myka wagged her finger, "We won't take no for an answer. Besides, Nate might have already accepted it." Panic gripped Helena-  _Nate was here?_

"Nate," she repeated dumbly, "When did he get here?"

"Oh, uh," Myka scratched the back of her neck nonchalantly, "coupl'a days ago? What a great guy; you really found the perfect man. I've been meaning to ask- does he have a brother?" Myka leaned forward, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Brother?" Helena shook her head, "Myka, I'm rather confused."

"Of course you are," Myka smiled, "And here I am, gossiping away. You sit tight- I'll go get Dr. V and everyone." She stood up and turned to leave without a second glance.

"Wait," H.G. called after her, "Perhaps we could talk privately for a few moments more?"

"Um," Myka looked over her shoulder, an uncomfortable expression on her face, "Maybe later or something? Nate made me promise I'd come get him as soon as you woke up."

"Oh," Helena's chest tightened, "alright." Myka smiled again in a way that was apparently supposed to be reassuring, but, to Helena, felt hollow. She left without another word.

Helena felt cold panic rising up from within her. Why was Myka behaving like this? She racked her brain to recall the last time she had seen the woman. Myka  _had_  confessed her love, hadn't she? Though, come to think of it, the memories were blurred around the edges- had it even been real?

"Emily!" The bright, young voice brought her out of her thoughts and she looked up to find Adelaide running up to her bedside.

"I was so worried," the girl continued, wrapping her arms around Helena's neck, "and so was my dad. He tried to be tough, but I could tell." H.G. was at a loss for words. She smiled at the girl before noticing Nate hovering by the doorway.

"Hey, you," he grinned, walking over.

"Nate," she swallowed, "hello." Adelaide stepped away to make room for her father and Nate leaned in for a kiss. Helena turned her head at the last instant.

"I'm afraid I have rather dreadful breath," she offered nervously, "You'll have to settle for my cheek." He frowned for a moment before grabbing her chin and turning her head back.

"Em, I don't give a rat's ass about your breath," he caressed her cheek and Helena fought the urge to remove his hand, "I love you." He kissed her then, holding her face still. It all felt terribly wrong and Helena wasn't sure what to do. She pulled away after just a few seconds, hoping it had been enough to appease him. He smiled fondly at her before pulling back and clearing his throat. He looked pointedly at his daughter.

"Oh!" She smiled, "Right!" Adelaide pulled a small box out of her pocket and handed it to Nate. Helena felt like she was going to be ill.

"Emily Lake," Nate dropped to one knee, "I have spent the past few days a nervous wreck. The thought of losing you- of living my life without you… I just couldn't stand it." H.G.'s eyes were as wide as saucers. She wanted to speak, to stop this, but she just  _couldn't_.

"I love you so much.  _We_ ," he continued, pausing to glance back at his daughter, "love you so much, Emily. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife? Join our family- forever? Will you marry me?" Her mouth hung open, but Helena couldn't use her voice.

Without waiting for a response, Nate surged forward and slipped the ring onto her finger, kissing her again. She started to shake her head, but at that moment the door swung open.

"Did we miss it?" Pete excitedly asked, a noise maker hanging from his lips, "We missed it, didn't we? Aw, hell- congratulations!" He blew on the noise maker and Helena winced at the sound. Nate hopped up to shake Pete's hand as more people entered the room. Artie, Steve, Claudia- but no Myka.

"No," H.G. tried to speak, but the whisper barely reached her own ears. Pete approached her, leaning in for a hug.

"H.G., you old dog, you!" He grinned goofily, "We're all just over the moon for you guys!"

"Pete," Helena's voice was only a little more than a whisper, "where is Myka?"

"Oh, she mentioned something about babysitting duty being over," he said breezily, "She hasn't slept much. She was just so  _guilty_  about you being hurt- I've never seen anyone feel obligated to another person like that before. Now that you're fine she probably just wanted a nap. I'm sure she'll come back later, though."

Without waiting for her response, Pete turned away to join the celebration that was happening on the other side of the room. He stopped to pick up Adelaide in a swinging hug.

"Congratulations to you too, kiddo!" The girl giggled happily as he set her back down to the ground.

"Thanks, Pete!" She beamed at him before walking over to Helena's bedside.

"I'm so excited," Adelaide grabbed H.G.'s hand, "This is the best day!" In the blink of an eye, Adelaide disappeared and Christina was in her place. Helena gasped and pulled her hand away in shock.

"Aren't you thrilled, mummy?" She asked with a smile, "We'll be together for always!" A thin trickle of blood made its way out of the corner of her mouth.

"Christina?" She whispered in horror.

"Huh?" Another blink and Adelaide was back, "What are you talking about Emily? I'll go get a doctor."

"No, wait," Helena tried to get up, "I just need- I'm just confused." Dr. Calder was by her side in an instant, followed by Nate and the others. Vanessa's firm hand pressed her back into the bed as she shared a concerned glance with Nate.

"I was afraid of this," she said.

"Afraid of what?" Helena asked, looking between them.

"We knew it might happen," Nate nodded, not paying Helena's question any attention, "Let's do it quickly, okay?"

"Of course," Dr. Calder nodded, picking up a full syringe and injecting H.G. in the neck before she could register what was happening. Her body felt heavy immediately and Vanessa made quick work of strapping padded cuffs to Helena's wrists.

"So, we're doing a full lobotomy, correct?" She heard Dr. Calder ask Nate before her world faded back to black.

/

Claudia blinked rapidly before shielding her eyes against the cloudless sky. The subtle, sweet scent of apples floated through the air and she sat up slowly, her head pounding.  _Where the frak am I?_  She looked around once her eyes had adjusted to the brightness of the day.

"H.G.?" She called, "Where are you? What happened? And how the hell did we end up in an apple orchard?" Claudia pushed herself up off the plush green grass and stood on shaky legs. How long had she been unconscious?

"H.G.?" Claudia shouted again, wandering off down the row of trees, "Hello? Is anyone here?"

She continued along her path, eyes and ears on high alert for any other sign of life. Finally, she saw a figure, sitting under a tree, off in the distance.

"Hey!" She called, smiling as she broke into a jog, "Is that you, H.G.?" Getting closer, she squinted her eyes,  _that definitely wasn't H.G._

"Mrs. Frederick?" She whispered to herself, speeding up. If anyone could help her, it was probably the mysterious caretaker.

"Hey," she panted, approaching the seated figure.

"Hello, Claudia," Mrs. Frederick smiled up at her, using one of her hands as a visor to block the sunlight.

"Mrs. F, what's going on? What are you doing here? What am  _I_  doing here?" She rattled off questions in rapid succession.

"Sit with me, Claudia," Irene Frederick actually  _chuckled_  as she said it. Claudia did as she was told, but peered at the woman suspiciously.

"Are you okay?" The younger woman asked, crossing her legs.

"I'm wonderful," Mrs. Frederick tilted her face up toward the sun as she spoke, "This place is- can't you feel it?" Claudia frowned.

"What I  _feel_  is seriously confused," she told the other woman, "Is this real? How are we going to get out of here?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it," she said breezily, "These thing have a way of working themselves out. Enjoy yourself, Ms. Donovan, it's a beautiful day." Claudia shook her head.

"What about H.G.? And everyone else?" She asked. Mrs. Frederick's face fell for a moment.

"Unfortunately, I don't think there's anything we can do about that," she replied, "We must trust that she's in good hands." Claudia furrowed her brow, but said nothing for a long while.

"So," Claudia finally spoke, "do you know what this place is?" She gestured to the trees surrounding them.

"Not exactly," Mrs. Frederick shook her head. She looked younger than Claudia remembered, but perhaps it was the light.

"Well, we should figure it out, right?" Claudia asked, unsure of herself.

"Dear Claudia, when the time is right, I'm sure one of us will be leaving," she smiled broadly, "Until then, let's enjoy the day and each other's company. I have so many things I've wanted to tell you."

 _One of us?_  Claudia's eyes widened at both Mrs. Frederick's words and her nonchalant tone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hai, again. So, it’s obviously been a minute (or two) since I last updated. I thought I would have time to finish this before NaNoWriMo, but that was dumb. Anyway, I wrote a little recap before the last chapter, so you can check that out if you need a refresher. Also, I just want to note that I wrote my NaNo in first person present, and it was kind of awkward switching back to this style. I think I caught any mistakes, but my apologies if anything slipped through. Thanks, as always, for reading. You guys are great.

**Chapter seventeen**

“So.”

“So?” Myka sighed, but didn't look up. She kept her gaze steady and focused on the unconscious woman in front of her.

“So, when are we going to get back to what you said before? When the force field dropped?" Pete asked from his spot on the other side of the hospital bed, "You were about to explain to me how you told H.G. something- actually, I think you said you told her  _everything_."

"Pete," there was a weariness in Myka's voice that made his chest ache, "now isn't really a good time for this."

Pete frowned as he watched his partner lean forward and shift a tiny bit closer to her... her what? Were they girlfriends now? Pete was still sort of unclear as to what  _actually_  went down between them, but he wanted to find out- and he wasn't even trying to be gross. He was just trying to do the best friend thing and get Myka to, for once, open up a little.

Myka hadn't said a whole lot since the two of them had been let into H.G.'s room. She simply positioned a chair at the side of Helena’s bed, held the woman’s hand and watched her sleep. Dr. V had assured them that H.G. was stable now, mostly. As long as her fever stayed under 104 degrees, she should be able to ride the sickness out.

"Uh, yeah," he pressed, "it kind of is. We’ve got nothing to do but wait for her to wake up. This is, like, prime time for feelings talk."

Myka looked up at him then, finally, and gave a little roll of her eyes. She also had the first hint of a smile in he couldn’t remember how long, though, so Pete was going to ahead and call it a win.

"You know it's true, Mykes," he continued, "you need some of my patented sassy best friend advice before your girl wakes up." He emphasized his point with a snap, but downplayed the usual flourish he threw along with it.  
  
"She's not  _my girl_ ," Myka countered, "Besides, Helena’s definitely a woman." Her tone was chiding, but that small smile on her face had grown into a slightly larger, almost wolfish grin.

"Hey  _hey_  hey," Pete said jovially, "that's what I'm talking about. You totally want to make magical Warehouse babies with H.G.!"

The grin on Myka's face slipped away and was immediately replaced by wide eyes and a gaping mouth, "Oh my God, Pete,  _what_?"

"Oh,  _please_ , don't tell me you haven't thought about it," he scoffed.  
  
"No," she shook her head, her lips beginning to turn upward again.

"Oh," he shifted uncomfortably, "me, neither."

Myka merely quirked her eyebrows at him, but said nothing in response.

"Anyway, the point is," he continued quickly, "you have feelings for her. You  _have had_  feelings for her- for, like, a long time. And, it sounded like, you guys  _finally_  talked about it... So, you have to tell me. As your best friend, those are the rules."

Myka looked at him a beat longer, before dropping her gaze back to Helena. She cradled the woman’s lifeless hand between both of her own and sighed deeply. She was going to talk, Pete knew it, but he also knew that he couldn’t push her. She needed to start on her own. Luckily, Pete could be patient- sometimes.

"I'm scared," she admitted quietly after a few moments.

"Of what?" He leaned forward in his seat a little.

The look Myka shot him then was obviously meant to take the place of one her signature, exasperated “ _Pete_ ”s.

"She's not out the woods yet, you know," Myka explained warily.

"I know that, but Dr. V said everything looks good, as long as her fever stays down. She just needs a little time to wake up," he replied easily, "Plus, I have a really good vibe."

"Really?" Myka seemed to relax a little when he nodded his assurance.

"Pete,” she paused, sounding unsure of herself, “do you think I should have called Nate? Should I- Should I call him now?"

Nate? Why the hell would Myka want to call  _that guy_. Unless Pete was really reading this situation wrong… but, no. No way. Even Pete was sure he couldn’t be  _that_  dense. Myka loved H.G., he was sure of it.

“Uh, Mykes,” he turned his head slightly so he could give her a little side eye action, “am I missing something here? Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t  _want_  to,” she brought one of her hands up to rub the back of her neck, “Trust me, it’s just about the last I want to do, but- ugh!”

Myka made sort of a little growling noise that took Pete by surprise before continuing, “It’s just... I don’t know what to do- what’s  _right_ , you know? It’s all so messed up. How did we even get here?”

Pete’s chest tightened as he regarded the woman across from him. He absolutely hated to see Myka upset or hurt or- well, anything that wasn’t happy, really. And it seemed like she hadn’t been that happy for a while now.

“Well, how about you start from the beginning?” He asked gently, “Tell me, about you and H.G.?”

Myka looked at him for a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not she actually wanted to dive that deeply into the past. She bit her lip before sighing, resigned.

"You've been here the whole time, Pete, not really sure what I could tell you," Myka told him.

"Well,  _clearly_  I missed some stuff, didn’t I?” Pete countered, “So, how about you start with how long you've been in love with her?”

“I don't know, at first…” Myka shook her head, “Everything with her has always been so damn complicated, you know? At first, there was Artie and the regents and everything. She kept me at somewhat of a distance, but I was always drawn to her.  _That_  part was simple, at least."

"So, you guys never...?" He trailed off awkwardly.

“Never  _what_ , Pete?” Myka narrowed her eyes at him.

“You never  _talked_  about it! Geez, Mykes, this is hard for me, too,” Pete explained, “I'm trying to balance my love of hot women with the fact that one of those hot women is basically my sister. I'm trying to help.”

“Oh,” Myka gave him an apologetic look, before shifting her gaze back down to Helena, “well, sorry. No, we never talked about it. In Egypt, I almost did say something. All the looks, the little touches- it was getting to be too much. But I didn't talk to her then, obviously. I told myself that I needed to keep my mind on the mission.”

Pete nodded sympathetically when Myka looked up at him. Oh man, he hadn’t even thought about  _Egypt_. He hadn’t realized his partner’s feelings went  _that_  far back. No wonder she had booked it from the Warehouse the first chance she got.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I should've,” she continued, “And sometimes, I  _wish_  that I had, because maybe... maybe things would've been different, you know? But there's also a part of me that's really glad I didn't. Because what if I told her, and she used the trident anyway? What if I hadn't been enough?”

“Mykes,” Pete began, but Myka waved him off.

“Anyway, you know what happened next. When I was at my parents’ house, I thought about her a lot. Too much. I would think about our interactions, replay our conversations, trying to see what I had missed. Turns out,” Myka sighed, “it was a lot.”

“Hey, Pete interjected, “you can’t blame yourself. We  _all_  missed a lot.”

“No, not like that,” Myka shook her head, “I mean- yeah, I probably did miss some warning signs, but I missed other things too. I missed... how I felt when our hands brushed- well, I missed what it  _meant_ , I guess. I hadn’t really realized how much I thought about her when she was gone, and how much I looked forward to being with her. I guess I sort of missed falling in love with her, in a way.”

Pete wasn’t really sure what to say to that, so he stayed silent as his partner looked away to gain some composure. She took a few deep breaths and ran her thumb over H.G.’s knuckles.

“And then,” Myka continued, frowning, “she was back- sort of. You can’t imagine how hard it was to see her like that. For her to be standing in front of me, but not to be able to touch her or  _really_  talk to her.”

“Mykes, why didn't you talk to me then?” Pete asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

“What would I have said?” Myka asked thinly, “‘Hey Pete, I think I'm in love with  _lady cuckoo_?’ You weren't exactly her number one fan.”

"I would've listened though,” Pete told her, feeling guilty.

“I know you would have,” she agreed quickly, “but I didn't think there was anything to do. I just didn’t really think it would help.”

Pete almost opened his mouth to argue, but then thought better of it.

“Anyway,” Myka continued, “then we found Emily Lake. I thought it would be different after that. When Helena and I were alone in Hong Kong... It felt different. Like even though we hadn't talked about anything, it was more real, somehow. I was so hopeful, especially when it turned out that Artie was on her side for once. But then…”

“She left,” Pete offered.

“She just disappeared, Pete,” Myka sighed, “She didn’t tell me anything, she didn’t even say goodbye. And then Wisconsin... Well, you know that part.”

Myka shrugged self-consciously. Pete certainly did know that part. The car ride away from Nate’s house had been really uncomfortable. He had, of course, noticed Myka’s tears, but he didn’t want to push her into talking. He knew that Myka could be a fiercely private person.

“Yeah, I have eyeballs,” Pete said, “I guess I assumed you were just hurting because you thought you lost a friend- you guys have always been really close. Pretty dense of me, huh?”

“We were close,” Myka agreed, nodding, “ _Are_  close. You’re not dense.”

“Still, I feel like I should’ve known,” Pete countered, before waving his hand to change the topic, “but, anyway, this isn’t about me. I think I’m caught up, right? So, what happened at the B&B?”

“When I thought she might die,” Myka began, “I had to tell her- especially after hearing Artie talk about the bomb. About how she- she died. Even though I was scared, I just  _had_  to.”

Pete nodded, “What'd you say?”

“Oh, I uh, I told her that I was really fucking in love with her,” there was the hint of a blush on Myka’s cheeks as she replied.

“Hey, now,” Pete smirked.

“Yeah,” the blush deepened, “and some other stuff, too. About how she had pissed me off, by leaving and everything, but that I didn't really care. I just wanted her.”

“Wow,” Pete chose to ignore the ‘wanting’ part, “What did she say?”

“Well, I didn't really let her reply right then,” Myka looked anywhere but at Pete, “I kissed her.”

“Score one for the Mykester!” Pete pumped his fist, “So, what’s the problem, then?”

She shot him another one of her looks before answering, “The  _problem_ , Pete, is that she's living with a man and his daughter in Boone, Wisconsin. Nate didn't just disappear when she came back to the Warehouse. What if she wakes up and decides that she can't stay again? I don't know if I could take that.”

“I really don't think that's going to happen,” Pete shook his head emphatically.

“Why not?” Myka questioned quietly, her gaze shifting downward. Pete found it strange to see his normally confident partner so unsure of herself.

“I just don't,” Pete tried to elaborate, “Not after everything that’s happened over the past few days. Plus, I’ve got a vibe.”

“Yeah, well I don't get those,” she sighed, lifting one of her hands from its grasp around Helena’s to run it through her hair, “and I'm terrified. I've never felt like this... Not even with Sam.”

“It's a  _good_  thing, Mykes,” Pete reassured her, “A really good thing.”

Myka gazed at Pete thoughtfully for a moment as some of the tension seemed to slip from her face. She opened her mouth to reply, but Dr. Calder chose that moment to walk into the hospital room. Myka turned her attention to the older woman.

“Dr. Calder,” Myka let go of Helena’s hand and wiped her palms nervously on her thighs, “any news from Artie?”

“Nothing new,” Vanessa responded, grabbing the clipboard from the foot of H.G.’s bed, “Artie and Steve are trying to do some research, but there’s no precedent for this type of thing. How’s Helena doing?”

“Her fever has been hovering right around 102,” Myka bit her lip.

“That’s fine,” Dr. Calder nodded as she flipped through a few pages of the chart, “She seems better, now that you’re in here, much more calm than she was earlier.”

Myka looked down, a tiny smile on her lips as she gazed on the unconscious woman in front of her, “That’s good.”

“Dr. V,” Pete piped up, “is there anything we can do? Anything that will help Claud and Mrs. F?”

“Not right now, Pete,” she shook her head as she replaced Helena’s chart, “We just don’t have enough information. Medically speaking, they’re both fine, though, and I’m sure Artie will figure something out soon.”

Pete nodded, sighing.  _More waiting- just great_. Maybe patience wasn’t his best quality after all.

/

“So, how do you Mrs. Frederick?”

“I'm not sure I understand that question.”

“Yes, you do,” Claudia smirked, “You know, like when you, ‘poof,’ appear out of nowhere. Or when all of a sudden you're gone. How does that work, exactly?”

Mrs. Frederick smiled that thin, all-knowing smile of hers as she gazed off into at the rows of apple trees. The day was picture perfect.

“I can't explain it,  _exactly_ ,” Mrs. Frederick said finally, “it just happens. I sort of think about where I want to be, but it's not even that conscious of an action.”

Claudia picked at some invisible lint on the red and white checked blanket laid out beneath them.

"What if I can't do it?" She asked quietly.

“It may take a bit of getting used to,” Mrs. Frederick said diplomatically, “but I have complete confidence you'll take to it like a natural.”

“I don't,” Claudia mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“ _I_  don't have complete confidence,” she repeated, “Mrs. F, what if I'm a total failure at this?”

“My dear Claudia,” Irene reached a hand out to cover one of the younger woman’s, “the Warehouse wouldn't have chosen you if you weren’t up for the challenge.”

“I get that,” Claudia replied, studiously avoiding the other woman’s gaze, “but I'm not ready. I need more time. The warehouse may have chosen me, but it didn't mean for this to happen yet, I can feel it. I'm not meant to take over right now.”

Mrs. Frederick pursed her lips, studying her young charge, “You've been ready for a while now.”

“How do you  _know_  that?” Claudia asked, frustrated.

“I'm the caretaker,” Irene sat up a bit straighter, “and I said so.”

“Seriously, Mrs. F?” Claudia’s bangs slipped in front of her eyes as she tilted her head down.

“Seriously, Ms. Donovan,” Mrs. Frederick nodded, “Now, you should ask go ahead and ask me any other questions you may have. I'm sure everyone is worried about us and I believe we've been enjoying this place long enough already.”

Claudia sighed before replying quietly, “I don't want to go back without you.”

“Claudia, I've been doing this job for a  _very_  long time,” Irene tilted her head back, “A little rest and some sunshine sounds nice.”

“But,” the younger woman countered, “don't you want to be able to say goodbye? To everyone else?”

Mrs. Frederick brought her gaze back down from the sky to look upon Claudia. She nodded, her expression melancholy.

“I trust that you will pass on my regards to everyone,” she said evenly.

“Are you afraid?” Claudia whispered.

“No, I’m really not,” Irene smiled again, “Ms. Donovan, I have had a long life, a  _good_  life. My work has made a real difference in the world- not a lot of people can say that. I also have complete and total faith in you, in this team, to carry that work on in my absence. I am at peace.”

Claudia nodded, feeling overwhelmed, “Were you scared? You know, at first?”

“Oh my,  _yes_. Petrified,” a deep laugh escaped from Mrs. Frederick’s throat, “When I was called to be caretaker, it was actually my first exposure to the Warehouse- quite a rarity, I learned later. I didn't believe any of it.”

“I would’ve liked to see that,” Claudia smiled, wiping at a tear that had somehow escaped from her eye.

“I’m sure you would have,” Irene smiled, “How about I tell you all about my first day? It was quite a disaster.”

“That sounds good,” Claudia tried to keep her composure as a tiny sob bubbled up from her chest, “Thanks, Mrs. F.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” an uncharacteristically large smile, full of warmth and fondness, bloomed on Irene Frederick’s face as she prepared to tell her tale.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I… don't even really have a good excuse for taking so long to update. Sorry for the delay and thanks for sticking with this story. Hope you all are still enjoying it. :)
> 
> Warning: Character death

**Chapter eighteen**

Helena blinked rapidly, disoriented by the change in her surroundings. She had only closed her eyes for a moment, she was sure of it, but where was she now? It was dark and dank and she wondered for a moment if she might be in some secret section of the Warehouse that she had somehow never seen.

Panic began to set in, way down deep in her bones, and she frantically willed her eyes to adjust to the dim room she found herself in. Where was Claudia? Where was-

"Please," a familiar voice whispered, sounding broken, "stop."

 _Myka_.

Helena hopped to her feet and began looking for the source of the sound, her eyes straining in the near blackness. She thought she saw a faint light coming from several meters away, so she began heading toward it.

"Myka," she called out, "where are you?"

There was no direct answer, but Helena could make out the low whispered murmurs of another voice. It seemed to be coming from the way she was already walking, so she picked up her pace and continued on.

"I don't  _know_ ," Myka choked out, sounding frustrated and beaten- a tone Helena had never quite heard from the other woman.

More whispers, louder now. She couldn't quite make out the second voice, but, if she had to guess, she would say it was female. All of a sudden, a hollow thud rang out through the silence and Myka groaned. Helena ran.

The light grew brighter as she got closer and, finally, she saw Myka. Helena's stomach dropped violently and she stopped short as she took in the other woman's state.

Myka was seemingly alone in the space, bound to a chair, barely hanging onto consciousness. She was illuminated by a single spotlight like the star of some sickening play. Her hair was messy, slick with blood in some places, and her beautiful face was swollen and split.

"Myka," Helena whispered the name as her insides all turned to ice.

She began to move toward the woman again, but suddenly stopped short as she noticed the presence of some sort of glass wall between them. It certainly wouldn't help Myka if she were rendered unconscious, so she approached the barrier cautiously. The second person she had heard moments before was nowhere to be seen.

Helena quickly felt the wall, checking for any possible portals or weaknesses. Finding none, she pressed her cheek against it and strained her eyes, looking for a door handle or  _anything_  along the length of it.  _Nothing_. It seemed to be one continuous thick piece of glass.

She practically growled with frustrated before looking back toward Myka again. The woman's head was drooping, she had obviously withstood quite a lot of abuse before Helena had found her. How had she gotten here? How had Myka gotten here? Who was the mysterious captor?

 _Think Helena,_  she sighed and pressed her forehead against the glass. She was utterly confused and disoriented, her brain struggling through a fog to catch up.  _How the hell had this happened?_  It had to be Paracelsus behind all this- he was easily the most probable option. Perhaps he had awoken before Claudia could bronze him? But-

Helena's whole body twitched once in shock before freezing. Paracelsus had stabbed her. Somehow, that little detail had escaped her memory until this very moment. Overcoming her momentary paralysis, she groped around her midsection. Feeling no knife, obviously, she untucked her shirt and felt around her abdomen. No wound, no scar.  _What the bloody hell is going on here?_

She slumped without her usual grace to the cold concrete floor, her forehead resting against the glass wall. Everything about this situation was defying logic and it was making Helena's head spin. It just wasn't possible. The last thing she remembered, hazy though it was, was speaking with Myka on the phone. She remembered seeing the butcher knife jutting from her belly, she was  _sure_  of it.

"Please," Myka's raspy whisper pulled her attention away from her introspection, "don't do this."

A figure had stepped out of the shadows, but Helena couldn't make much out about the stranger. He or she was facing the opposite direction and wearing a long black coat with a hood. H.G. hopped to her feet, hoping she could distract the assailant.

"Hey!" She shouted, her hands pressed flat against the wall, "Oi! Over here!"

There was no response from either person and the mysterious figure merely stalked closer to Myka. There was a low whisper and Helena was finally certain it was woman they were dealing with. A woman who was now kneeling in front of Myka and tracing her jawline with a gloved fingertip. Helena slammed her fists against the barrier, desperate to draw attention to herself. Again, there was no response.

"I  _promise_  you," Myka was crying, "I don't know anything- I don't- but, we can figure it out.  _Together_. Just- You have to stop."

The woman paused for a moment and Helena held her breath. Suddenly, the hand that had been caressing Myka's face pulled back and slapped her- the blow landing directly on an already split cheekbone.

Something inside Helena broke as she watched Myka's face contort with pain. She flung herself, shoulder first, against the glass barrier, fists slamming with the uncaged fury of a wild animal. The hooded woman stood sharply, pulling a small switchblade from within her coat.

"Why are you doing this?" Myka's voice was desperate as her tears mingled with blood, creating a trail of pink rivulets down her cheeks.

"Darling," H.G. froze, eyes wide, as the assailant's familiar voice reached her ears, "you  _must_  stop pretending that you're actually Myka. I know the truth."

H.G.'s heart thudded wildly within her chest and she pressed her hands against the barrier. Myka was shaking her head, unable to speak around the sobs that had overtaken her. The captor began to circle the chair and, for the first time, Helena did not want to see the woman's face.

The stranger, however, leaned forward and into the light, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Myka's hair. Helena shook her head softly, unwilling to believe what she was seeing- unable to comprehend that she was watching herself torture Myka.

"It  _is_  quite a shame that I have to mar such beauty, though," the woman pouted, "I don't suppose you want to make this whole thing easier and reveal your true nature?"

Myka's only response was another shake of her head as the tears continued to fall. The woman in black sighed dramatically, running her fingertips through Myka's matted hair. With a quick action, she reached around to the front of the bound woman and drove the switchblade into her shoulder.

"Pity," she said, straightening up and backing away into the shadows once more. She left the blade buried in Myka's body.

Helena saw Myka's mouth open in agony, but couldn't hear the screams over her own. She immediately started throwing her body against the barrier once more.

/

"Dr. Calder," Myka jumped to her feet as soon as the other woman approached, "you have to do something."

"What happened?" Vanessa questioned as she moved to the opposite side of Helena's bed and began checking the unconscious woman's vitals.

"She just started freaking out," Pete supplied as he trailed Dr. Calder into the hospital room, "all of a sudden. The machine, it started beeping and she was kind of thrashing around, so I went to get you."

"Her temperature and BP are up," Vanessa frowned, holding H.G.'s wrist, "and so is her pulse."

"What do we do?" Myka asked, her own pulse elevating with each moment.

"I'm going to get some more fever medicine and a light sedative," Dr. Calder's tone was soothing, but it did little to calm Myka down, "Just try to keep her as calm as you can. Hold her down if you have to- make sure she doesn't pull her stitches. Pete, go into the bathroom and fill a bucket with tepid water. I'll be right back."

Vanessa strode briskly out of the room without another word, and Myka saw Pete nod and move quickly out of the corner of her eye. She sat back down heavily at Helena's side, sighing and grasping the woman's slick hand. Helena's porcelain skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and there was a grimace distorting her lovely features.

Helena twitched occasionally, but her movements seemed to be calmer than they had been mere minutes ago. Myka's heart had lurched abruptly when the unconscious woman began thrashing in the bed. The raw violence of the action had taken her and Pete by complete surprise and she was thankful her partner had been there to help. The two of them held H.G.'s shoulders down for a bit, waiting for her to settle before Pete left to find Dr. Calder.

Myka bit her lip and squeezed Helena's hand. She reached out with her other arm and began smoothing some of Helena's sweat-matted hair away from her face.

"What's going on in there?" Myka whispered as she stroked the woman's forehead, "You have to be okay, Helena, you just  _have_  to. I can't lose you- not now."

"Mykes," she hadn't heard Pete leave the bathroom, but he was suddenly behind her, his hand tentatively tapping her shoulder, "do you want a Kleenex?"

 _Kleenex_? She quickly brought her hand up to her face and was surprised to find moisture there. When had she started crying?

"Thanks," she nodded, accepting the tissue.

Pete gave her shoulder a little squeeze before returning to the other side of H.G.'s bed. Myka quickly and (hopefully) discreetly wiped her eyes and blew her nose, tossing the tissue into the trashcan by her feet. She noticed that Pete left the bucket of water near her chair.

She looked up to find her partner staring at in her in that infuriating, but endearing way that was so distinctly  _Pete_. The look that made it clear he wanted to say something, but was going to wait for her to start the conversation.

The look that was all at once pitying and concerned and so full of love that it used to terrify Myka- because she had never met anyone like Pete before. She hadn't known that anyone could actually survive life with a heart that open wide.

"I'm okay," Myka told him, hoping she sounded more sure than she felt.

"Yeah," Pete agreed, fast and eager, "I know."

Myka waited for him to elaborate, or at least continue to give her  _that_  look, but he did neither. Instead, Pete merely leaned forward in his seat and covered Helena's other hand with his own. Myka bit her lip, feeling a new wave of emotion building within her as she took in her partner's sincere, worry-etched face.

She didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as Dr. Calder walked back into the room, her pace quick. She approached Myka, holding out a cloth which the younger woman accepted with a questioning look.

"Moisten it in the water, use it on her forehead, or neck- any pulse points," Vanessa instructed.

She didn't wait for a response as she moved toward Helena's IV on the other side of the bed. Pete stood, backing away to make room for Dr. Calder. She got right to it, her steady hand making quick work of pushing the necessary medicine.

Myka dipped the cloth into the bucket by her feet, letting it unfurl and swirl under the warm water for just a moment before wringing it out. She caressed Helena's forehead gently, then let the cloth dip down across her temple and along her jawbone. She retraced the path a few times, her eyes never leaving Helena's face.

The unconscious woman seemed calmer already. Myka knew it was probably due to whatever cocktail of drugs Dr. Calder had just injected, but she wondered if perhaps a little part of it was because of her. Because of her touch and comfort.

"What now?" Pete's quiet voice pulled Myka's gaze away from Helena.

He and Vanessa were both standing a little off to the side of the bed, huddled near one another. She dipped the cloth into the water once more.

"I can hear you, Pete," she said, squeezing out some excess water, "and I'd like to know the answer to that as well."

Vanessa turned to face Myka, shaking her head slightly.

"There's still nothing we can do," she said, sighing, "not medically, at least. Artie's been doing some research, but there aren't records of anyone being stabbed with the knife before now. All of her symptoms suggest that she's experiencing an accelerated, severe case of Typhoid Fever. Now, if that's the case, we are already doing everything for her that we can. She just needs time."

Myka nodded and began to dab delicately at Helena's wrist with the cloth.

"And if that's not the case?" Myka asked without looking up, "If there's something else, because it was an artifact?"

"We'll fix it," Pete told her, stepping forward, "We'll figure it out."

Myka nodded again, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. She let the damp cloth run up Helena's forearm toward her elbow.

"Can you-" she paused, "Can I have some time with her? Alone, I mean."

"Sure, Mykes, of course. I wanted to call Artie anyway, and I'll be right outside, okay?" Pete pointed necessarily at the door, "If you need  _anything_ \- anything at all- just call out."

"I'll be there, too," Vanessa added, "and I want to check her vitals again in ten minutes, alright?"

"Thank you," Myka looked up at them and tried to offer a smile as they left.

She sighed deeply as the door clicked shut behind Pete. Leaning forward, she brought the cloth back up to Helena's forehead.

"Hi, again," she whispered, dragging the cloth across smooth skin, "I just thought-"

Myka stopped short and let out a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob. She wiped away a new tear that was making its way down her cheek.

"This is probably ridiculous- and, and, I'm not sure why I was even whispering- but I thought that maybe if there was any, you know, artifact mojo," Myka wiped at her eyes again, "maybe it would help if I talked to you. Maybe somehow you can hear me, and it could help you to come back. So, hi."

Myka pulled the cloth back for a moment and studied the unconscious woman in front of her. The planes of her face, so beautiful, were once again smooth and at peace; she had finally stopped grimacing.

Helena's eyes were closed now, but Myka smiled, picturing them awake and alert. Eyes that could, at one moment, flirt and condescend and tease, but, at the next, betray the depths of emotion that the woman felt.

Myka shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She re-moistened the cloth and continued to wipe the sweat from Helena's face.

"Anyway, I- Well, I already told you this, but I think it probably bears repeating. I love you, Helena," Myka inhaled sharply, trying to keep tears at bay and to relieve some of the ache in her chest, "I love  _all_  of you, even the parts that maybe you don't. So, I really need you to wake up, okay? And sooner, rather than later, is better, for me, because- because I want to tell you all about it.

"And, I want to wake up next to you and argue about who has to get up first. I want to make you smile that smile- you know the one. The one that's just for me that you probably think I never noticed, but I did. God, I even want Artie to have to yell at us for making out while doing inventory," Myka laughed, sniffling, and wiped her eyes again, "I'm still really scared, Helena, because you could destroy me- right now, or at any moment, or in ten years- you could absolutely break me.

"So, please- if you can- please come back, okay? And you have to stay this time, for me. I'm strong, Helena, you know I'm strong. And you're not going to hurt me by loving me, I promise you. So, you don't have to be afraid, because you're not evil or- or poisonous- and you're not cursed. You're not any of those things you think you are, okay?"

Myka pulled her chair closer to the hospital bed, the squeak of the legs against linoleum sharp and out of place in the confessional she had built. She leaned forward, resting her head on top of Helena's limp hand. She gazed at Helena's face for a long moment before closing her eyes.

"I'll tell you all this again, I promise," she sighed, nuzzling her cheek against warm skin, "I'll tell you as many times as I can, as many times as you'll let me. And- and, I'll try to be more eloquent, though I think that's really more your thing, isn't it?"

/

Consciousness crept in like a teenager after curfew, and Helena let it weigh her body down for a few moments before she tried to open her eyes. There was pain, a lot of pain, mostly radiating out from her belly, but she felt oddly disconnected from it. She registered the presence of all her appendages, which seemed like a very good sign.

"Helena, can you hear me?"

 _Myka_.

"Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," Myka's voice was garbled and a little higher in register than she was used to, but it was definitely her. Helena squeezed, or so she hoped, but it was a bit hard to tell.

"Dr. Calder!" Myka called, too loudly, and H.G. winced, "Sorry, Helena. Pete, tell me you see this."

"I see it," Pete chimed in, "I'll go find Dr. V."

Helena felt Myka's hand within her own, heavy and solid, and she tried to focus on that. It was the only part of her that didn't feel like it might float away. She heard Myka laughing, or maybe crying, and felt her squeezing her hand tightly.

"You're okay," the woman whispered, and Helena felt fingertips gently brushing against her head, "You're going to be fine. Can you open your eyes?"

 _Hmm, perhaps,_  Helena thought. She tried to open her eyelids, but found them a bit uncooperative. After a few tries, she managed to lift them enough to take in her surroundings, and was thankful that the room wasn't very bright. There was enough light to see a figure hovering over her, however.  _Myka_. She felt a smile curling on her lips.

"Hi," Myka was crying.

"Hi," she tried to repeat the word, but nothing seemed to come out of her mouth

"Shh, it's okay," Myka was smiling and crying and Helena thought she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, "You don't have to say anything."

Myka shook her head, still smiling, and squeezed Helena's hand tightly, "You're back."

Helena nodded, her smile growing, before a thought struck her. Was this real? She tried hard to remember everything that had been happening to her. There were bits and pieces of memories, things that were terrible and wonderful, but none of it had lasted. Was this different?

"What? What's wrong? Are you in pain?" Myka was running her fingers through her hair and looking at her anxiously.

Helena shook her head and swallowed thickly, trying to make her throat work. She opened her mouth to speak, but, once again, no words would come out. She frowned, frustrated, before an idea occurred to her.

She maneuvered Myka's hand so that it was flat on the bed, palm up, and traced the letter "R." Myka looked at her, the question unspoken in her eyes, before looking down at their hands. Helena repeated the action.

"R?" Myka asked.

Helena nodded and traced another letter.

"E… A… L…" Myka recited each letter as Helena traced them. She finished with a question mark and looked up at Myka expectantly.

"Real?" Myka whispered, biting her lip and nodding, "Yes, Helena, this is real- I promise."

Helena exhaled deeply, and felt a tension she hadn't noticed before slip from her shoulders as she melted into the hospital bed. She closed her eyes and swallowed some more.

"Myka?" The word was hoarse and broken, but at least she had managed to make sound at all.

"Yeah?" Myka's hand was cool on cheek.

"Kiss me?" She tried to sound charming- confident and suave- but it was quite obvious, even to herself, that she was pleading.

There was one terrible moment, probably not even a full second, where Helena was sure that this was just another fever dream. She waited for Myka to scoff at her, or stab her, or disappear, but Myka did none of those things.

Instead, Helena felt the space between them collapse and then there was nothing but Myka. Myka's steady hand curled around the back of her neck. Myka's soft lips pressing firmly against her own. The salt of Myka's tears that found their way into Helena's mouth. Myka.

"Check it out-" Pete's voice, exuberant and loud, sounded from the doorway and Myka jerked away, "Oh. Uh, sorry."

Myka grinned down at her sheepishly before turning to face the newcomers. Helena smirked up at Pete and Dr. Calder, unfazed by the interruption.

"It's okay," Myka assured him, squeezing Helena's hand.

"I found Dr. V," Pete gestured to the older woman unnecessarily as she walked up to the bed and grabbed H.G.'s chart.

"Hello, Helena," Dr. Calder smiled, making some notes on the clipboard she held, "Welcome back to the land of the living. How're you feeling?"

"A-" H.G. cleared her throat, "A bit out of sorts, but quite happy to be here."

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that it's very good to have you back," Vanessa told her warmly, replacing the chart.

"Yeah," Pete agreed, "even Artie is going to be pumped. Don't tell him I told you this, but old Papa Bear was pretty worried about you. Actually, on that note, I should call HQ- be back in a minute."

He flashed a quick grin before turning to leave. Dr. Calder chuckled as she pulled down Helena's sheet to inspect her wound.

"He's not joking, you know- oh, sorry, sorry- I know, it hurts," Vanessa said, lifting Helena's bandage gently, "There, all done."

"Joking?" Helena breathed, trying not to cry out. Myka squeezed her hand tightly.

"Pete," Dr. Calder clarified, fixing H.G.'s hospital gown and blankets, "He wasn't joking. Artie's been calling pretty much every hour, on the dot."

"How long have I been unconscious?" Helena croaked.

"A couple of days," Myka told her, her thumb stroking a pattern over Helena's knuckles.

Helena nodded, letting the information sink in. Days since she spoke with Myka on the phone, days since there was a knife stuck in her belly, days since-

"Claudia," H.G. tried to sit up and was rewarded with a sharp pain in her stomach.

"Hel, she's okay," Myka's hand was firm on her shoulder, "Relax, please."

"Helena," Dr. Calder chided, "your body has been through  _enough_  trauma as it is."

"Claudia's alright?" H.G. asked, her jaw clenched in pain.

"She's unconscious," Myka explained, fingertips soothingly tangling in Helena's hair, "but okay. She and Mrs. Frederic- Well, after Paracelsus was bronzed, we think the Warehouse didn't know who was supposed to be caretaker. They're both fine; they just haven't woken up yet."

Helena nodded, letting the waves of pain wash over her. It wasn't pleasant, but at least the sensation seemed to wake her up a bit more. She heard the door open and glanced up to find Pete standing there, his face pale.

"Pete?" Myka asked, and Helena could feel her tense, "What is it?"

"It's Mrs. F," he blinked, shaking his head, "She- she's dead."


End file.
